Nineteen
by quillandspindle
Summary: How does one fight Fate? With two guns blazing, on a wing and a dare.
1. Chapter One: I

**A/N: Happy weekend, all! I'm so excited for this new story. It's the next installment in my Age Series (it's such a tacky name that I HAD to keep it) - i.e. Fourteen and Sixteen, but not related to either. It's a school setting, but it isn't about lockers or cheerleaders or jocks or even classes. It's about transitions and choices, and some of the things that fall in the laps of typical nineteen year olds (at least, in this part of the world). It's also about being normal, which is such a loaded word, and means a zillion different things to different people. I hope you enjoy it!**

 **Disclaimer: Michael Buckley owns almost everyone in this story. The Registrar, however, belongs to me.**

 **~QaS**

* * *

Sabrina Grimm ripped the envelope open with trembling fingers and unfolded the single sheet of paper inside. Rapidly scanning the paragraphs in neat print - information about dates and times and venues and instructions - her eyes registered one phrase -

 _I am pleased to inform you . . ._

She inhaled deeply, feeling her blood pound in her ears, surrendering to a sense of overwhelming relief - and nervous excitement.

She'd gotten _exactly_ what she'd wanted, was finally going to do _exactly_ what she'd chosen. The door to the rest of her life had been thrown wide open, and she was going to sprint through it on winged feet.

And, for the first time in her life, of her own free will, she'd be leaving her family - and the boy who'd become closer than that - behind.

* * *

Graduation, Sabrina Grimm decided, was way overrated.

She didn't get the hat-throwing thing, for one, nor the endless open-house buffets in garages festooned with paper streamers, balloons and montages of awkward childhood photographs. Why would anyone, least of all strangers, want to gawk at pictures of fashion disasters in braces and bad hair? And what was with the trophies? _Senior Volleyball Tournaments_ , _Under-18 Inter-district Swim Meets_ , _High School Debate Championships_ \- sure, she conceded, she could see the point in those. But the Preschool Beanbag Race Runner-Up ribbons and Tiny Tots Pie-Eating awards that posed alongside Susan's First Stuffed Moose Lovie and Johnny's Baby Quilt?

It was, she deduced, as much a celebration of children having finally grown up as it was an incidental rummage sale - a free-for-all of the humiliating ways that parents coped with imminent empty nest sentiments.

 _Or maybe_ \- she chided herself - _this is what regular people do when they look back on their school years; not everyone heaves a sigh of relief that they can finally stop pretending to be normal._

It was ironic, really, that she was still pretending. She'd really thought that by leaving Ferryport Landing and finishing her junior and senior years in a _normal_ high school, she could - at last - be just _that_.

But normal seldom is as normal does; she should've known better.

She blamed it on the fundamental fact that she was, among other things, immortal.

The truth be told, the transition itself hadn't been hard. After the war, the townsfolk had slowly rebuilt Ferryport Landing from its ruins. The freedom that came with the barrier's destruction had been at the expense of families and homes, and recovery had been a major overhaul, with everyone reshuffling jobs and responsibilities and doing what was needed to bring the town back to life. Her parents had stayed to help with the rebuild, so she, Daphne and Basil - then a toddler - had grown whatever roots they could to call the place home for the indefinite future. Eventually, when the schools were staffed, they'd even returned to formal education. Her life, she'd thought, was finally back on track - the way it was before her parents' disappearance had splintered her happy, normal destiny off into the Twilight Zone.

Then, when the town was once again up and running, her family had turned to rebuilding themselves. Sabrina's father Henry had found a job in New York City and they'd moved back to their old world of skyscrapers and honking taxicabs. Sabrina was surprised at how little she'd minded uprooting herself in the middle of her sophomore year of high school. She'd told herself that her grandmother's quaint fairytale village had never been her true home, that her heart had always belonged in the city, and that her semesters in Ferryport's spanking new schools would forever be tainted by the memories of rogue guidance counselors, traitorous friends, and students enslaved into powering breakouts that could've leveled even Alcatraz.

But if she were truly honest - and she wasn't much these days - it was really because she was missing a certain boy with razor wit and a wicked smirk who, years before, had skipped town with her uncle to see the world. Ferryport Landing was oddly sterile without him, she'd realized in the quiet early days of his absence. After all, he'd been literally painting the town red even before she'd arrived, and she couldn't for the life of her remember the place without him being an absolute menace in it. It seemed as if, when he'd gone, a part of her had gone, too.

And so they'd packed up their lives, kissed Granny goodbye, hugged Elvis and Tobias (whom they no longer thought of as Mr. Canis), and started anew (or a-old, as Basil wryly commented): new apartment, new accents, new newspapers, new places to buy groceries, and new schools for everyone. Sabrina was used to moving, and she'd fully expected to have no social life and to skulk under the radar for the two years until graduation but, much to her surprise, she'd found friends she'd actually enjoyed being with. And the school work was even interesting - a little pedantic, perhaps, after being immersed in fantasy, cultural tensions and strategic warfare for most of her adolescence, but stimulating nonetheless. She'd felt engaged and challenged, motivated to learn about how the world worked, the triumphs and mistakes of the mighty, the way to build dreams.

So she'd thrown herself into school. She'd gotten good grades, joined the school's mixed martial arts team, and organized a couple of community projects plus one emotionally-charged rally to raise awareness of abuse within the city's foster care system. She was no valedictorian and she certainly wasn't likely to be voted homecoming queen, but people generally respected her; no one had scribbled her name and number in the boys' bathroom, or cast aspersions on her virtue on Youtube, or accused her of stealing their boyfriend. She was, by all accounts, a normal student destined for, if not greatness, at least success beyond the diploma toward which she'd been working so hard.

And now, here she was - weeks from walking on the stage in her gown and cap - rolling her eyes.

No, Sabrina Grimm was _not_ rolling her eyes because she was So Done With Normal School; she was just tired of fighting what it meant to _be_ normal. She'd been fighting it all her life, after all.

But sometime in the middle of her senior year - she remembered the exact moment - she came to terms with it.

It was the day she'd met with her guidance counselor for what the kids at school called the Exit Interview. She'd sat down in a chair facing him, his desk between them, his hand resting on a lined notepad. She was there, he'd revealed, so he could "get to know her" - he was writing her a letter of recommendation for college applications, and he wanted to make her "stand out from the crowd."

She'd smiled and thanked him, secretly convinced he said that to every student who sat in her chair, spouting their accomplishments and particular talents in exchange for a glowing testimonial. She'd closed her eyes for a moment and cleared her mind of her old prejudices regarding demented psychological and social workers (whom she called the Self-Help Nutjobs) and sat back, ready.

And found that she couldn't answer any of his questions, not honestly.

"What are some of your special skills, unique abilities and/or accomplishments?" He'd begun.

 _Let's see. . . I can negotiate with megalomaniacs, kill monsters, survive poisoning, spontaneously grow body parts, pick locks, escape from heavily guarded rooms, outwit criminals and sadists, break spells with just my lips, and blow up buildings. Also, I have a mean right hook._

She'd reminded herself that he was just doing his job, and blurted out something about being assertive and disciplined, of having some success in problem-solving and deduction.

"And what are some weaknesses?"

 _Magic. That's my kryptonite. I almost died from it, once._

She'd mentioned that she was "working on delegating better".

"How would you illustrate your independence and resourcefulness?"

 _Um. . . how about "I escaped from numerous abusive foster homes and kept my sister safe on the run for two years, then saved the world"?_

She'd told him about her community projects, how she'd helped her martial arts team raise funds for new equipment.

"Ah!" The guidance counselor had remarked, leaning back in his chair. "My son does kali and a little bit of fencing. The discipline carries over to so many other aspects of life, don't you think? Which dojo did you train at?"

 _Briefly, the School For Bad Apples, run by Snow White - the princess, you know? Fairest of them all, as the rumor goes. After that, the King of Faerie himself trained me, with a toothpick of a sword. And for practical experience, I fought monsters in a war. You could say my dojo was pretty much the world. And I bet I could whip your son's behind anytime and twice on Sunday._

She'd dismissed it as just a hobby, and explained that she really only had time to train in school.

"Tell me about your leadership experiences."

 _Funny you should ask that. You know that war I mentioned? I led an army to fight it. And we won._

She'd smiled modestly, and explained how she'd spearheaded the rally that had resulted in the closure of three foster homes with dubious ethics on the Lower East Side. Her interviewer had looked suitably impressed.

"Describe yourself in three words."

 _Tired. Thankful. Yearning._

She'd thought for a long time, before saying, carefully, "I used to think I wanted to start over, live my life differently. Not because it was bad, but because I didn't want it. Then I realized that I was just waiting to grow up, so I could choose what I wanted to be. Sorry - I know that's longer than three words."

The guidance counselor has simply smiled and assured her that it was perfectly okay. He'd finished with one last series of questions.

"Colleges and employers sometimes like to have character references. They're usually someone who knows you well but who isn't family, and the more established they are in their work, or field, the better. Do you know anyone like that? Someone of high standing in the community?"

 _Does a king count?_ She'd bitten her lip to stop grinning. _Because I know one. Quite well, in fact. He's the one who trained me to fight. A bit of an ass, but he's got more clout in his community than the President - one of the perks of being King, I guess. And he's seen all the worst bits of me, as well as - I hope - the good._

She didn't remember her answer to the guidance counselor, and had left the room somewhat depressed. _No one here truly knows me_ , she'd reflected, thinking sadly of her two best girlfriends, and the couple of boys she'd gone out with on a few dates, none of whom had even an inkling of her bizarre past, or her familiarity with a world in which the usual rules of logic didn't apply.

 _I've been living a lie. I'm not normal, no matter how hard I want to be._

Then there was senior prom. She didn't get that, either.

She tried to be excited on behalf of her two girlfriends - the one who was madly in love with the sweet, shy boy on her Math Olympiad Team, and the other one, who was trying to get over the guy who'd broken her heart over the Christmas break.

"Guys are jerks," the heartbroken one said, watching the couples in the lunchroom.

"Not all of them are," the besotted one countered.

"Just ask him, already," Heartbroken told her, but not unkindly. "If he isn't a jerk, he'll say yes."

"But I don't want him to feel _sorry_ for me!" Besotted reasoned, her hands in classic Bosom Protection Position.

Heartbroken snorted. "It's not pity, you daft cow; it's relief. The poor boy's been in love with you since 7th grade. The only reason he hasn't made the first move is because he's looked at all the factors - your gorgeous face, your scintillating personality, the fact that your IQ is higher than half the senior class's combined - then calculated the probability of being rejected himself, and found that the statistics weren't in his favor. Statistics don't lie, especially to a Math nerd."

"He's not a nerd!" Besotted's eyes widened in indignation. "He's so. . ." she sighed.

"Sabrina," Heartbroken turned to her, " _you_ tell her. She's worn me down."

"Emily's right, Jen." Sabrina said. "The boy _is_ ripe for the picking."

Jen made a disgusted face. "Don't talk about him like he's . . . fruit."

Emily rolled her eyes. "Just go make out with him right now, Jen," she warned, "or I'm walking over there myself and dragging him back here to you so you can both make a huge scene."

Jen's eyes widened in horror, her face turning red. Sabrina marveled for the hundredth time at how her friend, arguably the smartest - and nicest - girl in school, who could hold her own against visiting lecturers and reporters in any topic they cared to name, could nonetheless dissolve into an irrational mess when it came to this boy.

"Jen," she began again, "just go talk to him, okay? It's your first crush, so of course you're a wreck. We've all been there. Trust me, he'll be so relieved you spoke up that he'll do the rest."

Jen stared at Sabrina, chewing her lower lip. Then she stood to her feet, grimly resolved.

"It's not an _exam_ , for goodness' sake!" Sabrina assured her, taking in her determined stance. "It's just Roy. Go."

"Or I'll propose to him for you right now!" Emily said, loudly.

Jen whimpered and went.

The two girls watched her departing back for a few moments, and then Emily turned to Sabrina.

"We've _all_ been there, huh?"

Sabrina swiveled to face her. "What?"

"Who've _you_ been there with?

 _Shoot._

"And don't tell me it's Jason or Chris, because it's clear you're not that into them," Emily continued, her eyes flitting between Jen, sheepishly creeping up on her intended prey, and Sabrina, who'd retreated into her private world, wishing she could disappear.

"Nobody, Em. I was just . . . generalizing. You know, so Jen wouldn't feel like she's weird or anything."

Emily regarded her in quiet scrutiny.

"I don't buy that. It's someone from back home . . ." she postulated, "or wherever home was, before you moved here."

Sabrina clenched her toes inside her shoes. Emily was too perceptive for her own good; she'd be a heck of a detective herself someday. Or a shrink. No, not a shrink - not enough consideration for the acute discomfort of others, Sabrina decided. Then again, for all her relentless candor, Emily had also taken a chance on Sabrina when she'd first arrived - the cautious and slightly aloof New Girl trying to disappear into the woodwork. Emily might be irredeemably blunt, but she was loyal, and disarmingly open and unguarded.

Quite unlike Sabrina, in other words.

Sabrina sighed, meeting Emily's eyes, not speaking.

"Let me guess -" Emily squinted at her, their other friend's romantic endeavor all but forgotten, " - an arranged marriage you can't get out of. Shockingly archaic in this day and age, especially in a place like New York, but you're an enigma, Sabrina Grimm. And it's hard to profile an enigma. Still, who's to say you didn't in fact come from a little town where it's perfectly acceptable for parents to match you up with their neighbor's kid at the tender age of ten, in a mutually beneficial arrangement to merge farmlands or livestock or whatever? And while your particular bachelor farmer is extremely easy on the eye, you can't ask him to the prom because he's a horrible dancer and, therefore, utter humiliation on two left feet. So . . . am I right?"

Both girls laughed, but Sabrina exhaled sharply at how closely Emily had grazed the truth. Except for the bit about dancing - if there was something the people in "Sabrina's little town", as Emily had put it, could do, it was dance.

"I'm not giving you the satisfaction of an answer, Em," Sabrina deflected.

"You've gotta admit that it was more dramatic than 'he broke my heart and I didn't see it coming and now I'm just biding time till I can pull myself together and return to my old gung-ho, amazingly intuitive self'," Emily returned, her grin fading slightly as her voice shook.

Sabrina put a hand on her arm. "Em, he didn't deserve you. And you _are_ your old gung-ho, amazingly intuitive self." _You have no idea just_ how _amazingly intuitive._ "You're no less of an amazing person simply because you've lost someone."

"You know what the worst thing is?" Emily looked into the distance. "I can't even be mad at him because he did everything right - he wasn't two-timing me, he wasn't being a butthead, he didn't give me that lame line - you know, the 'it's not you - it's me' one - and he never even asked if we Could Still Be Friends. I mean, he couldn't have broken up better if he'd tried. But it still sucked."

Sabrina rubbed her friend's arm. Emily was one of the most resilient people she knew; she was broken right now, but she'd live.

"Is he cute, at least?" Emily turned back to her. "Your arranged-marriage guy?"

Sabrina laughed, tipping her chin in the direction of Jen, who was smiling at Roy. His own face was glowing so brightly that it could've lit up the night sky.

Emily followed her gaze and muttered, "Way to go, Jen, you little wench," her own smile matching theirs.

Sabrina watched them shyly banter for a while, then answered without turning to look at Emily, "Yes, he is. And it wasn't an arranged marriage, idiot. I was sucked into the future and discovered we were married to each other. He's the King of . . . Fairyland. He has a brother, FYI, if you're interested. Not as cute, but much more charming."

Emily guffawed, shoving Sabrina's shoulder with hers, just as the bell sounded for the end of lunch period. "And you laughed at _my_ story. Yours is way more ridiculous."

Sabrina rose, taking the leftovers of her lunch with her.

"That's why I don't tell anyone," she whispered under her breath.


	2. Chapter Two: YOU

**A/N: Thank you for the reviews! Something's funky with fanfiction so they are invisible to everyone, but be reassured that I am getting them in my email inbox and am perfectly able to read each one. So please do keep reviewing without worrying that your messages are getting lost, okay?**

 **Also, I can't PM/reply to the reviews to Chap 1 until the site issues are fixed, so I'll respond here instead.**

 **incognlto: re: clarification - yes, P and S are still talking. This whole fic is largely them talking, believe it or not.**

 **susiequeen300: yay! Although the high school aspect sadly isn't going to feature much.**

 **Arabella Quinn: I will - here is the next installment!**

 **LALALALALALALALA: Thank you!**

* * *

Sabrina vetoed her own graduation party.

Daphne, who loved parties, protested vigorously. Sabrina's parents, however, respected her wishes, understanding - a little sadly - when Sabrina explained that she didn't know whom in NYC they'd invite who might come.

Basil, being neither of Daphne's persuasion, nor possessed of their parents' empathy, had no opinion whatsoever.

In lieu of a graduation party, Sabrina asked if they could all take a vacation together before she went off to college. Veronica thought it was a lovely idea, and went off to plan it. Daphne, suitably pacified, clapped her hands and sat on the couch to text her bevy of friends the good news.

Later that night, Sabrina announced that she'd been accepted to Hywell College. She took out the acceptance letter that had arrived weeks earlier, but which she hadn't told anyone about until now, and offered it to her parents. She didn't know why she'd wanted to keep it a secret; perhaps she hadn't expected the undercurrent of sorrow that had tainted her otherwise bright burst of joy at receiving the news.

"Hywell!" Henry sat up in his armchair, his eyes shining. "That's wonderful, honey! What are you planning to read?"

Sabrina rattled them off - generic classes that gave her wide options for streamlining later toward a career in law. Her parents knew this, knew of her dream to advocate for the Everafters she'd initially been so quick to dismiss, and to bridge cultures in ways few had bothered, let alone dared, to do before. They were generous in their support, once Henry had come round to the idea that his daughter was not afraid of her ancestry, nor did she plan to live in denial of her unique calling the way he had.

But there had been another reason for choosing Hywell over the other, more prestigious colleges - Hywell was funded by Everafters, staffed by Everafters, and offered a selection of . . . unusual courses that she hadn't seen in the catalogues of any other institutions of tertiary learning. Hywell's student body was largely unaware of the backgrounds and unique qualifications of its teaching staff; the Everafters within each cohort knew, of course, but the regular humans never guessed they were sitting among immortals, rooming with beings glamored to look human, or partying on the weekends on campus with the heirs of legends and fairytales of yore.

It was the total opposite to what she would've chosen, had she still been eleven years old and newly initiated - and utterly resistant - to the realm of magic and make-believe. But now, eight years later, after living, working and loving in their world, not to mention fighting for their freedom to move in and out of it, she felt more akin to them than she'd ever dreamed possible. So she'd only sent in one college application - only _one_ \- because she knew she was meant to be there.

Daphne was only interested in how far away this college was, and if she could visit, and how often Sabrina would be home to see them. Her shining eyes said she was happy for her older sister, but her lower lip trembled, and she pulled it between her teeth to still it as she googled "Hywell College of Liberal Studies" on the map.

Sabrina squeezed her hand. "It's only about seven hours away," she said gently. "I could leave in the morning and be home by tea time."

Daphne blinked rapidly.

"We'll FaceTime each other as often as we can. Or Skype. And call, of course. It'll be okay, Daph."

Her sister nodded, sighing deeply. "It's just. . . you've never not lived with me."

"I won't be leaving for a couple of months, anyway," Sabrina pointed out. "Let's make the most of them, okay?"

"Okay," Daphne replied, cheering up.

And that was that.

* * *

Their family vacation fell through.

The timing was inopportune - it was one of the busiest periods at Henry's office, and even getting a weekend off would've been a stretch. Sabrina was disappointed, but she let it go. It was just college, for goodness' sake, not a death sentence, she rationalized. And in spite of feeling like it was an ending of sorts, she knew that it was really a beginning of other things, and she tried to look forward to it that way.

Emily and Jen were going to different colleges, but they'd promised to keep in touch. Sabrina knew she would miss them, but she also knew that the practicalities of their situation wouldn't allow for a lot of time hanging out during the school year, even with planes and cars and other means of making the distance between them disappear. They'd made a pact to spend a week of their first summer break together, and Sabrina had written that into her calendar. It'd felt good to have something concrete to look forward to - a reprise of the life she had - before she moved out into the Great Unknown.

She mentally checked off her friends' names in a virtual To Call list in her head - yes, everyone was accounted for, even Jason, whom she'd eventually gone to the prom with. She knew he'd liked her, that he'd hoped for more from their friendship. But she'd wanted to be kind, not coy like some of the other girls she knew, who toyed with their suitors' affections as if they were trophies. So she'd told him she couldn't, that it wasn't a good idea to start something when they were moving away for college. She didn't tell him - because it _so wasn't true_ \- that her heart was stuck in a small town, held ransom by another boy - a boy with wings and hair the color of the sun.

* * *

There was one more name on the list.

She _should_ tell him, she repeated to herself several times a day. She didn't know why she hadn't wanted to earlier, why she thought the suspense of waiting till the last minute was better. She didn't want to believe it was because it felt significant that he should know, as if she'd expected him to respond a certain way and was afraid he mightn't.

She was still hemming and hawing the night _he_ called instead. She was in her bedroom, sorting out her clothes, and she answered with bated breath (and didn't know why), standing stock-still beside her bed.

"I heard you got a prison sentence," he said, without so much as a Hey There. "What did you do this time?"

"Prison sentence?" Sabrina spluttered, even while her heart flipped to hear his voice.

"Yeah. Something involving books."

Sabrina shook her head as it all clicked. "I got into _college_ , stupid."

"Same thing."

"Whatever. I was gonna call you and tell you. And then _you_ called."

"To convey my condolences! You can escape, can't you? You're the Queen of Sneaks; surely you can wrangle your way out of this mess!"

"I don't want to get out of it. I _want_ to go to college! I _volunteered_! College is a good thing, Puck!"

"Only to the deluded and brain-damaged," Puck snorted rudely, and Sabrina imagined him sprawled on one of the ornate couches in Faerie, his leg dangling off the end of it, while he threw things toward the ceiling and caught them on their way down. "I knew you were a dimwit, and this just proves it," he elaborated genially, "though why on earth anyone would _volunteer_ to read more books is beyond me. Well, I say they deserve all the pain and suffering they get. I only hope you last long enough for me to rub it in."

Sabrina ignored his jab. "It's out of state," she informed him, deciding against delicacy. "I'm leaving in two weeks. I'll be away for four years, Puck."

There. She'd said it. She'd told him.

She sat heavily on her bed. Now it was _his_ turn. But what did she hope he'd say?

It turned out that he didn't say _anything_ ; all she got was silence on the other end for a good half minute.

"No chance of parole, I guess?" When he spoke at last, his voice sounded strained.

"Enough of the prison analogies, Snotface," Sabrina huffed, but she was secretly pleased at detecting a hint of discomfort in his tone, a chink in the armor he wore around his heart. "There are breaks between terms, and I don't have any classes on the weekends. Plus there are the holidays; most people try to go home for Thanksgiving and Christmas."

She paused.

". . . And people can visit me, too. It's not a maximum-security facility, you know."

She heard him exhale into a sigh, and wished this were a videochat - she'd have given anything to have seen his expression right then.

"Unless they're allergic to books and hard work," he laughed easily, sounding like himself once more. "They should quarantine the place. Send in HAZMAT to make sure it doesn't spread. Ha ha ha!"

Sabrina frowned. Whatever reaction she'd expected - hoped - to get from him, this wasn't it. Maybe if they were still twelve and he an immature imp of a boy, provoking her with fart jokes and inappropriate references, she might've expected him to say those words. But not when they were almost nineteen, and he'd been ruling a kingdom for the past three years, and ruling it _well_ , surprising everyone by how much he'd grown into his stature and - dare she say it?- common sense.

"Puck." She called his name, to get him to focus. "I'm not changing my mind. College is not horrible. There are great opportunities, and people to meet, to exchange ideas with, to figure out who you are and what you want to do. What _I_ want to do with my life. And this college - Hywell - is full of Everafters. The teachers are all Everafters, although I'm sure there are a few token mortals, to make it PC and all. And the courses! Stuff about Everafter history, and cross-cultural relations, and the economics of trade, and sociological studies about longevity and population profiles and -"

"You get to meet people?" He interrupted suddenly.

" _That's_ what you took from all I said?"

"I thought it was going to be like. . . solitary confinement. You know - you locked in a room with a ton of books, just. . . reading for years and years."

"You're thinking of the library and Scarecrow." Sabrina grinned at the memory. "College is _fun_. I'm really looking forward to meeting all those people. They'll be my age, and they'll come from all over the country, maybe even the world. I'm even going to have a roommate. Maybe. It'll be so interesting. I can't wait, actually."

Puck was eerily silent, and Sabrina waited for him to say something, anything. _He's behaving really strangely_ , she thought, _even for Puck_.

"Huh," he huffed out eventually. Then, "Are they all Everafters - the students?"

"Some. Some are just mortals."

"And the mortals don't think it's weird that they're learning about the history of crazy people they've never heard of? Or about magic? That it's like . . . I dunno . . . Disneyworld gone amok?"

Sabrina had thought the same thing when she'd first heard about Hywell . She'd eventually learned - not from the internet, which understandably had practically nothing on this odd little institution - that the College was deliberately run that way. The Everafter intakes, of course, knew what they were getting in for, as did the regular humans who were aware of the existence of this alternate realm alongside their mortal world; many enrolled for this exact reason, if not also burning curiosity.

The other humans - the blissfully ignorant - had the scales fall from their eyes soon enough; some loved the culture shock and embraced it with the kind of openness that was the College's aim to nurture in the first place. For the others, there was forgetful dust - generously included in their health insurance plans - and intensive therapy, mostly along the lines of "What did you expect, really, from course syllabi like _The Myth of Magic_ , _Everafters In Politics and Religion_ and _Non-Aging Populations: Issues and Challenges_?"

She patiently explained all this to Puck, who didn't at all think it was a good idea to flaunt their heritage to a volatile world still earning the trust of persecuted Everafters all over the globe.

"Think about it," she finished, "the barrier's been gone for years, and we're mixing with the outside world, mingling, intermarrying. We need to know how to live with each other, how to set up systems for the unique challenges of a bunch of people living forever, alongside another bunch of people replenishing their generations every century or so. We need men and women who can see both sides and not take either against the other."

"Men?"

"Yeah, men." Sabrina echoed. "And women."

"There are _men_ in college?"

Sabrina massaged her eyes. Was he being sexist, or just plain stupid?

"Yes, Puck. Men go to college, too."

"Oh." A pause. "So you'll be meeting. . . men. . . there. In your college. That could get dangerous."

Sabrina felt her blood pressure rise. He was insinuating that she couldn't take care of herself. Again. In some ancient time, this might possibly have been flattering to unempowered females, but Sabrina Grimm was nothing if not empowered. Especially after leading an army to victory. And she was very tired of hearing people be surprised about it.

"If you're saying that I can't -" she began, then checked herself as another thought occurred to her.

Was he . . .?

It couldn't be.

They hadn't talked about it since. . . forever.

"Puck? What did you mean?"

"Nothing." His voice was light, nonchalant. "It's not like there weren't boys in your New York school, or even in Ferryport. You'll have a blast, I'm sure."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing. Forget I said anything. When are you leaving, again?"

Sabrina blinked, trying to process what he'd said, what he _hadn't_ said, barely registering his question. "Uh. . . in two weeks."

"Hm." His voice was a rumble as he took the time to consider something. "Okay, then. Catch you on your first break, I guess. When's that - Thanksgiving?"

Sabrina nodded, forgetting temporarily that he couldn't see it. "Yeah," she said, and tried to hide the disappointment in her voice as she heard the insouciant lightness in his.

"Well," he continued, his tone no longer lazy, and she imagined him rising from his couch, ready to return to his duties as King - or to head to bed. "I've gotta go. I have a meeting with a feudal troll about a land dispute. Last thing on the agenda for tonight, but shouldn't take more than a couple minutes, thankfully."

"A land dispute? That could drag on."

Puck laughed - his first truly genuine laugh since the beginning of the conversation. "Naw. Maybe in your human courts. _We_ settle _ours_ by arm-wrestling; winner takes all."

Sabrina's jaw dropped. "You're gonna arm-wrestle a _troll_?"

"And win," Puck reminded her. "You wanna watch? We can set up Skype."

"But. . . but. . . how big is this troll?"

"Dunno. Haven't met him yet; 10, maybe 12 feet tall. Could be a her, though. Those are even bigger, meaner and stronger. But I'll win either way."

"Uh. . ." Sabrina stammered, unsatisfied. "Are you sure you're strong enough? I mean. . ."

"Come on, Grimm! I carried _you_ , didn't I?" He chuckled. "All those times we flew? When have I ever dropped you?"

 _Never_ , Sabrina admitted to herself.

"Anyway, nobody arm-wrestles the King of Faerie and wins. It just doesn't happen. I can't keep track of all the land I've collected just by smashing someone's hand down on a table. Good thing the trolls are this dumb - otherwise, they'd have figured it out by now and that'd be the end of my supply of new land."

"Is this . . . is this how the kings of Faerie always settle their disputes?" Sabrina had great difficulty visualizing Oberon one-on-one with anyone, least of all a troll.

"Depends on the king," Puck replied airily. "Father had his goons, but I prefer the personal treatment. If you want a job done well, do it yourself, I always said."

Sabrina closed her eyes and imagined Puck staring down a troll, hunched over a table and grunting their way to someone's loss and the other's gain. The image was wrong on so many levels, and yet so completely _Puck_ that she found herself chuckling.

"Sounds like you're having a good time being king," she commented, genuinely happy for him.

"Some days are more awesome than others, I'll admit, but yeah, it's been great." His voice softened to a murmur, and Sabrina felt her own body relax as she lay back against her pillows.

"Are you happy?" She wondered aloud. "I mean, this is what you were trained for, and when the time came, you took it on, no questions asked. But is this really what you want? Ever thought of doing anything else?"

She heard Puck inhale as he considered.

"Well. . . I left Faerie to come back with you guys, didn't I? Just after. . . after Father died? Did some detecting, moonlighted as _somebody's_ bodyguard for a while, even got drafted to fight a madman who possessed a certain old lady."

"Don't forget dance lessons. Remember Seven's wedding? Actually, I'm not sure that counted as a dance, but you taught everyone, and it was hilarious. You should definitely include that in your resume."

"How could I forget? First time I ever saw you in a dress; had to scrape my jaw off the floor."

Sabrina's breath caught in her throat, goosebumps erupting all over her skin as she heard Puck's voice in her ear, as if he were right there in her room, whispering it to her.

 _Ditto_ , she thought, remembering his crooked grin in the moonlight; even after his fancy tux had turned back into rags at the stroke of twelve, he was still the person she wanted most by her side that night. _And if Dad hadn't turned up when he had . . ._

 _This_ was why she'd been so hesitant to tell him she was leaving, _This_ was what she'd wanted - but daren't hoped - to hear between the lines of his snark and facetiousness. Not that they'd been tied together by destiny, no; not even that he'd miss her when she went to Hywell, but that she _hadn't_ imagined it all those years: that Something between them, something they - not Fate - chose for themselves, something she could justifiably regret leaving behind when she embarked on this new adventure without him.

 _I miss you._

 _All these years you've been off seeing the world and ruling your people, I've missed you. And all the coming months when I'm going to be expanding my mind and my_ _world, even though we're only hours apart, I''ll miss you._

She waited for him to order her to stay, to keep away from the other boys, to swing by Faerie to see him once more before she disappeared for four years.

But he remained silent, letting her walk away from him into her big new world just as, years ago, she'd let him leave so he could see his, and she couldn't ignore how she was both relieved and disappointed. Whatever they were to each other, it was maddening how much she still needed him to need her.

 _What have I let my heart do to me?_

Sabrina cleared her throat and pulled herself together. "Well," she began, "I guess I'd better let you get ready for your hot troll date, huh? "

"Yeah. I've heard all they wanna do is hold your hand and take advantage of you. It doesn't pay - literally - to go unprepared."

Sabrina threw her head back and roared. She didn't even care that she sounded uncouth; this was the boy who'd seen her at her worst, and not turned a hair.

"Goodbye, Gashead," she said when she'd composed herself; Puck was still chuckling on the other end of the line. "See you in four years, thereabouts."

"As if! You'll be breaking out of that place in no time, covered in rashes and bloated like a beached whale. I give you two weeks, tops. And I'll be there, in my HAZMAT suit, to say I Told You So."

"Hanging up now!" Sabrina singsonged at him.

"Beat ya' to it!" He trilled back.

She waited for the click.

"You still there?" She asked, when it didn't come.

"Got you to speak first!" He gloated.

"We're too old for this, Puck. And you're supposed to go do responsible, kingly things now. So go."

"Fine. Good _night_ , Grimm. Not goodbye."

"Goodnight, Puck."

She didn't wait this time, and cut off before he could, but she kept the phone to her ear, cradling it against her cheek for a long time after the line went dead.


	3. Chapter Three: THEY

The following fortnight went by in a rush of phone calls and email correspondences as accommodations were confirmed and last-minute classes registered for. Thereafter began the packing (and inadvertent discovery of forgotten sentimental trinkets), the frantic texts to friends for their contact numbers and dorm addresses, the decision to load the bike or leave the bike, or the guitar, or the fifth pair of jeans. Sabrina welcomed the frenzy of activity and busyness - it distracted her from thinking about saying goodbye to her family - Daphne, in particular. When the sadness hit her - as sometimes happened during the lulls in her otherwise task-driven days - she told herself that her little sister would be perfectly fine with their parents and Basil, and that she was no longer the seven-year-old who needed protection from bad adults and the truth about the Real World Out There.

Daphne was light and sunshine, Sabrina marveled. In spite of everything she'd seen during the war and the trauma of their time in foster care, her sister had weathered those crazy years and lived to laugh about them. The occasional nightmare aside, which she'd shaken off like the stupor of sleep with her waking, she'd shown no sign of the torment that sometimes still haunted Sabrina. On her good days, Sabrina reminded herself it was because _she'd_ borne the brunt of it - shielded her sister by making light of the abuse and turning desperate escapes into games in which the prize was a night of stolen freedom.

On her bad days, she couldn't remember if, on some of those nights, she _hadn't_ been there for Daphne, if there'd been times when she wasn't able to be her shield, and had somehow forgotten. But she didn't allow herself to dwell long on those bottomless thoughts - she needed to believe she'd done _all_ she could.

She's fifteen now, Sabrina reasoned. Perhaps in ten years, Daphne could be sitting on a therapist's couch as it all came back to her in choking sobs and bitter ejaculations. But for the moment, she had her friends and family, her fearless optimism and that childlike innocence that so effectively held the darkness at bay.

 _I can let go_ , Sabrina smiled to herself. _She can take care of herself now._

 _And so should I._

 _I want to come clean to Em and Jen. I want to say that I'm not normal. I want them to know that even though they'll grow old and die long before I ever will, they'll still be the first friends I've ever had who'll have known the truth about me. How ironic that I'd finally met someone who didn't know who I really was, who didn't fear or hate me for being a Grimm, and yet here I am, wanting to tell them anyway._

Sabrina could imagine Jen's reaction - Jen, who swore by Science and logic and wouldn't give the time of day to anything that couldn't be verified by either; Jen, whose heart was as soft as her brain was quick, and who wouldn't snort in derision at Sabrina's fairy tale world of reformed witches and morphing pigs. No, Jen would _worry_ about her, would share her concerns with the school psychologist and guidance counselor, with precise descriptors like "delusional" and "under great stress" and "mental breakdown", even as she begged them to help Sabrina.

And then there was Emily - far less roundabout and far more satirical - who'd likely cope with sarcastic banter and delighted amusement. Usually incredibly astute - in situations grounded in sobering reality - she'd play off Sabrina's "creative nonsense", meaning no harm in her sincere belief that it was all jest, but in the process breaking Sabrina's heart nonetheless, because they'd be speaking different languages, and not know it.

 _How could they know_ , Sabrina asked rhetorically, _when those were_ my _exact reactions when my eyes were first opened?_

 _Perhaps another day, then, or another year._ _After all, I have all the time in the world, even if they don't._

* * *

Hindsight, it turned out, had a wicked trick up its sleeve.

The Grimms had planned to stop at Relda's for the weekend, en route to Hywell. Henry would drive Sabrina (and her bike, but not the guitar) to the campus in time for orientation so she could get settled in, deal with bills and logistics, and tie up any other loose ends before classes began. Her mother, Daphne and Basil were going to stay on in Ferryport Landing with Relda until he got back to drive everyone home again. Sabrina was relieved - she hated drawn-out goodbyes, but she hated mass farewells even more, and having her father's company on the 7-hour drive would take the edge off all that drama.

Besides, she was looking forward to seeing her grandmother again - they didn't visit as often now that they lived in the city and were at the mercy of school timetables and her parents' work schedules. And it would be wonderful to catch up with her old neighbors - people she'd fought alongside in the war, who'd believed in her when she was a child with the weight of the world on her shoulders.

Daphne, of course, was bouncing off the walls - all she could talk about in the week leading up to their trip were Elvis (Relda's flatulent dog), Tobias (reformed wolf-man hybrid and Relda's housemate), Red (ex-psycopath, adopted by Relda), the assortment of princesses who had mentored her in various capacities, and the witches with whom she'd formed a coven to fight in the war. Anyone with half a brain listening to her rattle on would have called in the police and/or Child Services to have a psychological assessment performed, followed by immediate extraction from their family on grounds of unfit parenting but this, Sabrina sadly conceded, was normal for them, and had been ever since they'd discovered who they really were.

 _I really should hate Ferryport Landing for what it did to my happy, safe world_ , she mused as their car turned off the highway and bumped over the remaining miles to the little town, _but I don't. This is who I am, and it's grown on me._

And then, there it was: Granny's house, backed by the dark woods, its windows reflecting the late evening sun. Henry parked the car and all five Grimms tumbled out, shouting for Elvis, shouting for Relda, shouting for the neighbors to _come see, we're back, we missed everyone._ And there was Granny, smiling, coming out of the house with Tobias behind her, and Red pushing out from under their arms to run to Daphne's side. And Elvis - oh, mercy - gamboling and knocking everyone's knees from under them in a whirlwind of licks and spittle and deafening barks.

And - unbelievably - two other girls, walking out after, the last people Sabrina had expected to see in Ferryport Landing. She blinked several times to be sure her eyes weren't deceiving her.

"Em! Jen! How on earth . . .?"

They laughed, throwing themselves at Sabrina. "Surprise! We're here to spend the weekend!"

Daphne squealed and grabbed Sabrina's arm. "We're throwing you a surprise graduation party! You said you didn't want one in New York because you didn't know who'd want to come. So we moved it here, and you can bet everyone will want to come!"

Sabrina stood rooted to the ground, her arms limp around her two friends, flooded with emotion.

"Isn't it great, Sabrina?" Daphne pestered her.

She turned to her sister, her eyes suspiciously moist. "Yeah. It's perfect."

"No, it wasn't." They heard a new voice behind them. "But now that _I'm_ here, you can bet that it is."

Sabrina whirled around - there he was, slamming the door shut on a dusty SUV, the sunlight catching his hair in windblown waves, his green eyes sparkling with mischief as he winked at her.

"Puck!" Sabrina breathed. "What. . . how . . .?"

"Came to crash the party, Captain Doodieface," he grinned, resurrecting her old (and humiliating) nickname.

Sabrina scowled.

"Sweeeeeeeet," Emily muttered under her breath. " _Who_ is _that_?"

" _That_ is not as sweet as he looks, I promise you," Sabrina rolled her eyes, her earlier delight at seeing him substantially dampened.

"Ah, Puck! How lovely to see you!" Relda enveloped him in a delicate hug and he patted her head fondly. Then, seeing Sabrina was in no mood for formalities, she quickly introduced Puck to the two girls. "This is my adopted grandson. We call him Puck. He can be quite . . . spirited. Puck, these are Emily and Jen, Sabrina's friends from New York." Turning back to Puck, she said, warningly, "Please be nice to our guests, dear."

"I make no such promises, Old Lady," he tossed grandly over his shoulder seconds before Daphne jumped into his arms, shrieking.

Sabrina gritted her teeth. Her extremely mortal, extremely normal friends were _here_ , in her utterly bizarre universe. With _Puck_ , no less, who was not only the epitome of Not Normal, but who was probably going to turn this all into a horrible game for his perverse entertainment. Sure, she'd wanted Emily and Jen to know the truth someday, but this was way, way more than what she'd bargained for.

* * *

At the two-hour mark, however, everything was still all-clear: no one had spilled a secret, no one had transformed into a non-human creature, and no monsters had turned up to terrorize the town. Even the food Granny served at dinner had been astoundingly normal.

"I'm sorry if everything's a bit plain tonight," she apologized even as Sabrina, seeing spaghetti and meatballs in their usual colors, heaved an enormous sigh of relief, "but I ran out of the usual ingredients. I forget to keep things in stock sometimes, especially when I don't have guests."

Sabrina, seated between her two friends, and across from Puck, looked around the table. Emily, unusually silent, was giving Puck furtive glances. Puck, seemingly oblivious, smirked back at her before returning to cutting his meatballs into small pieces, arranging them on his plate in groups of five and pretending they were soldiers to be sent into battle with each other, much to Basil's amusement. Sabrina sighed at her friend's blushing interest - she'd have to disenchant Emily later, or it would all end very badly. Jen, by contrast, was in her element - asking questions, deeply engaged in a discussion with Tobias about the effect of genetics on the early onset of certain diseases.

After the meal, Granny took Emily and Jen out to the yard to chop firewood for the night, declaring, "You city folks probably have never chopped a stack in your life!" and Sabrina was left to finish up the dishes. From outside the kitchen window, she heard her mother's voice, arguing with Daphne.

"No magic, honey. We have guests, remember? Do the porch the old-fashioned way."

"But Mom! They're out back! They won't see. It'll just take a minute and the porch will be all decked out for the party tomorrow."

"No, Daph. I don't want to risk it."

"Aw, Mom, you're no fun!"

Sabrina let their voices drift in and out of her head like background noise as she stacked plates and rinsed silverware. Somewhere in the logical part of her brain, she was annoyed at her parents for inviting her friends to a gathering that was bound to be, at best, controversial and at worst, traumatic for everyone. Or did they imagine they could keep up the facade of normality in this town which was everything but? What _were_ they thinking - or _not_ thinking?

"Boo."

From out of nowhere, Puck had materialized behind her.

Sabrina grunted. "Consider me terrified."

"So. . . mortals, huh?" He ignored her sarcasm. "This will be fun to watch. I hope you're all stocked up on forgetful dust."

Sabrina frowned, turning around to face him. "I had no idea they'd be here, okay? Mom and Dad invited them. Don't get me wrong - I'm thrilled to see them, but it's kinda awkward. I. . . I've been meaning to tell them the truth, but -" she shook her head, "- how to, Puck? They'd never believe me, and it'd only make them think I'm insane, or need a shrink or something."

Puck chuckled. "But you _are_ insane - it's what I've been saying all along! Oh, hey, no, I don't do chores, sorry. King and all, y'know." He held up his hands in distaste as Sabrina handed him a plate and a dishrag. She stomped on his foot in response, eliciting a yelp.

"You'll do dishes like everyone else in this house," she scolded. "Back in Faerie you may have slaves to order about but here, you don't get to pull rank, buster. So, work." She tossed the rag at him and shoved the plate into his belly.

"Bossy." He grumbled, but took the plate and began awkwardly drying it, as if he'd never held a dishrag in his life. "So, you want to spill the beans, but you want a happy audience. Well, good luck with that. Not everyone's as shiny-eyed as Marshmallow. I say we keep it a secret. I mean, the townsfolk aren't exactly flaunting it - they look pretty much human most of the time and - if worse comes to worst - we'll just pretend they're in costume, like it's one big Renaissance Fair. Let it all play out, and if it all goes to pot, there's always the forgetful dust, like I said."

"But I don't want to dust them!" Sabrina sighed, handing him a second plate. "I'm tired of being someone else to them, to Em and Jen, I mean. They're the first real friends I've had that I trust and I don't like hiding who I really am from them."

"Well, thanks for forgetting me," Puck muttered, looking hurt.

"You know what I mean, dummy. We're not the same kind of friends as Em and Jen."

"Oh? And what kind of friends _are_ we?"

Sabrina eyed him, wondering how to answer. It was a good question, one that she'd carried with her all through her adolescence, one whose answer changed with each phone call, each text, each fight, each time she'd seen his face after months of being apart.

"I don't like that you're the only friend I've got who knows the truth." She said at last.

"Don't think I didn't notice you avoiding that question," he noted, looking sly. "But back to your giggly girlfriends. Do you trust them not to go berserk?"

"I don't know. You think you know someone, but there's a limit, especially when I'm about to land something as . . ."

"Freakishly stupid?" Puck offered.

" . . . sensitive -" Sabrina glared at him, " - as this on them. But I think . . . I think I'm willing to risk it. I think I owe it to them, after everything they've been to me. And I think I'll feel better after I tell them. Even if they think I'm crazy."

"Feel better, huh?" Puck raised a skeptical eyebrow at her. "Well, it's _your_ suicide," he concluded encouragingly, putting the last plate into the cabinet and walking off.

* * *

As far as sleepovers went, this one was definitely a winner, apart from the looming sense of farewell between friends who were once practically inseparable. That, and the feeling of faking one's entire past and present - at least, as Sabrina saw it. By now, she'd realized that the weekend was heading toward a confrontation of sorts - it was unavoidable, given the kind of party the next day would bring, and the kind of guests, and the kind of conversations one might overhear, given both the nature of said guests and their ignorance of the mortals in their midst.

But when to divulge the truth, and how, and how much of it, so as not to bring on derision, livid fury, a heart attack, or the threat of ostracization - or all of the above - _that_ was the real question.

Emily and Jen, ensconced within their sleeping bags on the floor of Sabrina's old bedroom, were just wrapping up the scandalous details of Jen's recent romantic escapades with her newly- installed boyfriend, Roy, when Emily said suddenly, "I can't wait to meet the people in this town tomorrow. It's like we've gone back in time!"

Jen stared at her friend for a second, and then nodded enthusiastically. "You know, that's exactly what I've been trying to put my finger on all day. Yes, that's it exactly - at first I thought this place was just an old-fashioned small town, but no . . . it's different. The buildings, the way people look, and talk - like that old guy at the gas station - and there's this _feeling_. I can't figure it out. It just feels. . . like . . . _magic_. Oh, listen to me. I'm nuts."

Emily grinned at Sabrina. "It almost makes me want to believe in your king of Fairyland, lurking about somewhere in the forest, all bearded and crotchety and ancient and scary."

"What king of Fairyland?" Jen asked in surprise, and the other two, realizing she hadn't been with them when they'd had that conversation, quickly enlightened her. Or, rather, Emily did, while Sabrina shifted uncomfortably on her bed.

"When I was little, I believed in fairies," Jen dreamily confided. "There were these photos someone took that were so real, and I saw them, and for weeks after, I tried to find fairies in my own backyard. Now, of course, I know they don't exist, and those photos were photoshopped - or whatever was the equivalent in those days. Still, it was fascinating: fairies - the idea of other beings, I mean."

"What's really fascinating," Emily cut in, "is that boy that Sabrina's been hiding from us all this time. Her adopted -" she squinted as she worked it out, "- brother. He's hot, if slightly mouthy."

Sabrina successfully kept her face neutral as Jen cocked her head and chided, "Rebounding so soon, Em? That's not you. There won't be a happy ending; you know you're still in love with Will."

"I'm just sayin' " Emily argued, squirming at the mention of her ex. "I have to move on sometime."

"You don't wanna move on with Puck," Sabrina blurted out before she could stop herself.

"Why not?" Both girls asked simultaneously, and launched immediately into a barrage of questions about Puck's possible relationship status, girlfriends, particular orientation(s), and secret flaws.

"No," Sabrina said, cautiously. "It's just . . ."

"Unless . . ." Jen's voice took on a slightly teasing tone, " _you've_ already called dibs?"

Emily threw a pillow. "He's her adopted _brother_!"

"No blood ties. It could happen." Jen looked ready to begin a genetics lecture.

Sabrina sat up suddenly. It was now or never.

"Come with me."

Emily and Jen, surprised at her abrupt change of mood, frowned.

"Where?"

Sabrina stood and held out her hands. "I have something to show you guys. Please?"

Her friends scrambled to their feet, curious and a little taken aback, and obeyed simply because of the seriousness in Sabrina's voice. She led them out of her room and down the hallway to another door, and knocked, saying, "It's me. And Em and Jen. Can we come in?"

As they waited for an answer, Sabrina turned back to her friends and took a deep breath.

"This is going to be a little weird," she began, "so don't freak out, okay?"

They nodded, silent, frowning and glancing at each other as if to ask, "Is she alright?"

Sabrina pushed the door open.

Emily and Jen gasped, as Sabrina had, years ago when she'd first entered Puck's room. It was just as she'd remembered it - an impossible recreation of the great outdoors: a forest clearing under an inky sky studded with stars. From somewhere came the sounds of night creatures - the background chirping of cicadas, the occasional hoot of an owl, the quiet splashing of something swimming on a pond, or a lake.

"Whoa!" Emily exclaimed. "What a set-up! Hollywood could take a page outta this book, man. It looks so real that it's . . . unreal!"

"Yeah," Jen added, "whatever you did with the size illusion, it's amazing; that sky looks _miles_ away! What are you using - mirrors? Holos?"

They heard a noise, and turned as Puck came walking out of the trees toward them, looking like a ghost in an old-time movie.

"Normally, I'd have set the wild things on you, just for waking me up," he announced seriously. "But I'm in a good mood tonight, so you get to keep your skins. You're welcome, by the way."

While they gaped at him, not sure if he were joking, he caught Sabrina's eye and raised his eyebrow. She bit her lip and drew in a breath.

"Emily and Jen can't wait to meet the townsfolk tomorrow," she declared meaningfully, her gaze still fixed on his. "So I thought we'd start here."

Puck was silent, pursing his lips, communicating Are You Out Of Your Blessed Mind with a cock of his head and a furrow of his brow.

"Show them, Puck."

He raised his eyebrow again at her, as if to give her one last chance to back out, and she responded with a terse nod, her face set.

He shrugged and, without a word, pushed a hand into his hair, sweeping it upward and away from his cheek. He looked like a model, Sabrina thought, with his chin tipped up, and the light from the stars illuminating his face.

Emily and Jen stared at his ear, at its perfectly pointed tip.

He tucked his hair behind that ear and turned to face them, waiting.

Their eyes darted, unsure, from this anatomical revelation to his own eyes, green and shining.

"It's real." Sabrina said in a whisper. "All of it - this room, him. It's not an illusion. You're not imagining it."

Puck looked at Sabrina. "Maybe . . . should I turn into something?"

Sabrina inhaled. "Yeah, maybe. But keep it . . . simple."

Puck winked at them, spun on his heel and swelled into a full-size elephant.

Emily and Jen screamed.

The elephant morphed back into Puck. Sabrina swatted his shoulder.

"An _elephant_? Seriously?"

"What? You said simple! Elephants are simple, unlike, say, a. . . a dragon."

"You can do a _dragon_ now?"

"Excuse me! I could _always_ Do A Dragon. It's just that it's more impressive now that I'm older. I mean, obviously an full-grown dragon is way more awesome than a hatchling. Don't you remember Mother turning into one when I was out cold? You told me she did; scared the pants off everyone!"

Emily and Jen were staring at them, mouths gaping, clutching at each other.

"What. . . what is he?" Jen finally asked, her eyes haunted.

"He's not human," Sabrina said, as gently as she could. "He's a fairy."

Emily blinked, and Sabrina could almost see the gears turning in her head.

"A _fairy_. . . wait. . . _he's_ the king of Fairyland that you were telling me about? It wasn't a joke?"

"King of _Faerie_ ," Puck corrected her, unfurling his wings behind him with a soft pop. "Robin Goodfellow, at your service; you might have heard of me." He held out his hands to Emily and Jen, and they took them, too shocked not to.

In an instant, they were hovering in the air, Jen screeching and clinging to his arm, legs wildly kicking. Emily's mouth was open, her eyes screaming OMG.

"Put them down, Puck," Sabrina ordered, feeling sorry for her friends.

Jen sprang away from him the minute her feet touched the ground, her eyes wild and her jaw hanging.

"You're not. . . Puck . . . as in, Puck from A Midsummer -"

"A Midsummer Night's Dream? Yep. The one and only," Puck puffed his chest out. "It's nice to finally meet someone who knows her Shakespeare. Unlike Grimm here. When we first met, the only Shakespeare the girl could name was Romeo and Juliet. Typical. The females only ever know the sappy rom coms."

"Romeo and Juliet wasn't a rom com, stupid! It was a _tragedy_! Everyone _died_!" Sabrina spat, disgusted.

"Psshht. Come on! It was hilarious. And it was just a story, like all the other stories! 'Sides, I knew them personally back in the day and I have it on good authority that they're still alive and kickin'. Literally. Story is Jules used to dance at Lincoln Center until she got too uh. . . " he noticed Sabrina's eye on him, "shall we say . . . full-bodied. . . and now she runs a ballet school down the street. And last I heard, Romy owns a casino in Vegas, right on the Strip. They're no longer together, incidentally; guess what they say about marrying young is true after all."

Jen was frowning through Puck's gossip-byte and now suddenly gasped, " "But that was, like, hundreds of years ago! You don't look like you're hundreds of years old!"

Puck sneered. "I'm _immortal_ , foolish peasant! And so is Grimm!"

Jen exclaimed, "What?" as Emily shouted at Sabrina, " _You're_ immortal?"

Sabrina nodded uncomfortably.

"So _you're_ hundreds of years old, too? And which freaking Shakespearean fairy are _you_ supposed to be, then - Titania?" Emily continued, almost manic.

Puck shook his head. "No, that's my mother," he intoned solemnly, and then, when the two girls glared at him in livid disbelief, he protested, "no, really!"

"He's telling the truth," Sabrina said wearily. "Titania _is_ his mother, believe it or not. It's complicated. And I'm not hundreds of years old - I'm just nineteen. Like you. And I'm nobody. I mean, I'm just Sabrina Grimm."

"Not _nobody_ ," Puck said scornfully. "Try the great-who-knows-how-many-times-granddaughter of one of the Brothers Grimm."

"The Brothers Grimm?" Jen was almost screeching by now, her mind processing a mile a minute. "Like the fairytale guys? Are they immortal, too? Which ones are they? Hey - that old guy running the gas station we saw when we drove into town - was he him? Your great-great-whatever-granddad? Was he one of the Brothers Grimm?"

"No, that's just George Wilson, the attendant. He's completely mortal. He's just old." Puck cackled.

Jen shut up at last, holding her head in her hands like a vice, staring at the ground. "You can't be immortal. Nobody can be immortal. It's biologically impossible. The natural rate of cellular replacement. . . no. This is a dream. I'm dreaming." She looked completely defeated.

"Is everything else true, then?" Emily burst out, clearly allowing shock to conquer logic, at least for the moment. "What you told me? That you're married to him in the future? I thought he was the adopted grandson."

Puck smirked. "She told you about our future, did she? Was she swooning?"

Emily glared at him, all her earlier bashfulness gone. "I didn't believe a word she said. Because it was ludicrous."

Jen whispered, looking like she were about to pass out, "Is . . . are there any other surprises?"

Sabrina turned to her, grateful that her friend seemed to be pulling herself together. "Well, there'll probably be some unusual guests at the party tomorrow. Princesses . . . and people who . . . who come from stories like . . ."

"Your Disneyworld nightmares come true, in other words," Puck translated, grinning evilly. He turned to Sabrina, "I heard Bunny's on the guest list." Then, he whipped his head around to Emily and Jen once more. "How'd you two like to meet the Evil Queen?"

Sabrina squeezed her eyes shut, not wanting to see her friends' expressions, not ready to read on their faces how they felt about being kept in the dark all this time, about feeling like they might be going insane. She herself felt ready to cry.

Jen swallowed and took Emily's arm. "I think I'd like to get back to bed." Her voice was flat.

Sabrina nodded and ushered them back to the door once more. Emily and Jen marched with determination, not once looking back, with absolutely no sign of their earlier wonder at being in Puck's impossible room. Sabrina, however, glanced over her shoulder to catch Puck's eye, expecting to see his triumphant smirk. Instead, she found him watching them, his face solemn, almost sad.

* * *

Back in Sabrina's room, Emily and Jen slipped into their sleeping bags without a word. Sabrina sat on her own bed, worrying at a rip in the quilt, wishing she had the words to break the tense silence.

"So that's your fairy king." Emily said, at last, and Sabrina strained hard to hear not the words, but the way she'd said them. Emily sounded merely curious, like she were thinking about what it all meant. _But not afraid_ , Sabrina thought. _And not angry - either that she thinks he's off-limits or that I never told her about any of this._

 _"_ Yeah."

More silence. Then Sabrina timidly ventured, "Do you want to talk about it?"

Emily and Jen glanced at each other.

"Not . . . now." Jen said, after a moment. "We. . . I . . . need some time. . ."

 _Not with you in the room_ , Sabrina heard her unsaid words. _Not until we can figure out if we were both hallucinating, or cracking insane. And - even if we find it in ourselves to somehow believe it's true - if we still want to be your friends after you'd pretended to be someone else all this time._

"Okay," she said, trying to keep her voice calm. "I couldn't sleep, anyway. I think I'll take a walk."

Her friends didn't reply as Sabrina sighed heavily and left the room, shutting the door behind her. Outside, she leaned back against the wall beside the jamb, her face in her hands. She felt lost and panicked, her previous resolve that transparency had been a good idea completely washed out by dread that she'd just lost her two best friends. And there was a simmering anger, too - at her parents for dragging them into a world they weren't ready for, and jumping the gun, and forcing Sabrina into a corner she had no way out of but . . . this.

She turned her head and saw, down the dimly-lit hallway, the door to Puck's room, where she'd played her cards and come up painfully empty. She pushed herself off the wall, allowed her her feet to carry her there, and let herself in. She didn't even care about the possibility of booby-traps announcing her arrival.

She found Puck lying on his trampoline, gazing up at the sky. He turned his face when he heard her approach.

"Figured you might be back. Feel better?" He asked quietly, reflecting back her earlier words.

She hoisted herself over the frame and onto the mat, feeling it give beneath her as she crawled to his side and curled up against him. He shifted and moved his arm to hold her.

"Not really," she whispered, wrapping her own around his body and breathing deeply to keep the ache from reaching into her soul, and the tears from screaming out.

* * *

 **A/N: Conflict! And coming out of the closet, Everafter-style. And a hint as to the kind of friends P and S have been growing into over the years. All kinds of blurred boundaries - the best kind of tension, I think.**


	4. Chapter Four: EVERYONE

**A/N: Made it before the weekend! Whoo! Thank you, everyone for the reviews and follows etc. to the last chapter, and my other stories. I'm aiming to get to PM-ing you guys back this weekend, as well as try to read some of the fics that have popped up recently. In the meantime, enjoy this new chapter!**

* * *

The next morning, Sabrina awoke to a headful of golden curls in her immediate line of sight. All at once, the night's events came back to her and she sat up, overwhelmed and disoriented.

"I fell asleep." She announced in surprise as the trampoline, disturbed by her sudden movement, bounced gently under her.

"Duh, Captain Obvious," Puck mumbled disagreeably, his face buried in the crook of his arm.

"Em and Jen will be wondering why I didn't come back!" She crawled to the edge of the trampoline in panic, about to swing herself down, when Puck reached out and grabbed her ankle.

"Wait. Hey, hold on, Grimm!"

She glanced back, impatient, as he lifted his head and turned bleary eyes on her. "Don't make a big deal of it. They don't hate you, okay? They're just in shock."

Sabrina swiveled around fully to take him in.

"And how are you suddenly such an expert on people?"

"Because I've been there, doofus. Remember when you dropped that bomb on me about coming back from the future?"

"Yeah, so wha. . . oh . . . yeah."

They stared at each other for a long moment, letting the memory awaken the trauma and humiliation that Sabrina had so long repressed.

"You were really ticked." She said at last.

"That's putting it mildly. I was scarred for life, was more like it. But I came round, didn't I? See - I'm not mad at you anymore."

"A bit late to make amends now, don't you think, after that round of Pegasi?"

"Okay, fine - that might've been slightly overkill, I'll admit that now. But you -" he poked a finger at her, " - deserved it. You didn't exactly break it to me gently, not that it's the kind of news you can ever lead up to - I mean, it's just too much for a guy to take, learning he's grown up and married to you."

"Thanks a lot." Sabrina replied bitterly, realizing that this was the first time in years that they'd talked about this. For some reason, it made her sad.

"No, that's not what I . . . look, the point is I'm not mad anymore. It's not even a big deal now. But I _was_ mad then, because it was a huge shock! And I took it out on you. What I'm saying is . . . they're shocked. So don't take it personally, and cut them some slack. They'll come round, if they're as good friends as you say they are."

Sabrina stared at him, stunned. Just when she thought she'd had him figured out, he always found a way to spin her off-tangent.

"When did you find the time to think up this psychobabble?" She finally managed.

"While you were snoring your head off." He sat up and rubbed his eyes.

"I don't snore!" She blushed, suddenly embarrassed. "Do I?"

"Like a pneumatic drill." He opened one brilliant green eye and appraised her, grinning. Then he stretched and yawned, loud and long. "Well, we'd better get up. Rumor has it there's a party starting downstairs and it's missing its star."

"Right," Sabrina realized, feeling lead in her stomach at the thought of Emily and Jen being subjected to a second round of fairytale madness. "I really should -"

"I meant _me_ , loser." Puck said, laughing and launching himself off the trampoline toward the door, wings beating a whirlwind around Sabrina. "Dibs on the bathroom!"

* * *

Breakfast was awkward, to say the least.

Sabrina was both glad and terrified to see her two friends already seated at the table, drinking coffee and eating cereal out of a box. Puck was reaching over Relda's head to hand her a dish from an upper cabinet, and the old lady was murmuring her thanks in her lilting German accent, declaring that it was lovely to have her boys at home again. Sabrina smiled as she watched them, enjoying this doting side of Puck who, in spite of all his claims to the contrary, clearly adored Relda.

Puck turned and took a seat across from the two girls as Sabrina came to join them. He brushed his hair away from his face, once more displaying his ears, then took a deep draught of his coffee. Emily and Jen visibly swallowed as they noticed, and exchanged a look of acute discomfort. Sabrina was certain he'd done it on purpose, and wasn't sure whether to thank or slap him for rubbing it in.

"Hey, guys," she began instead, "sorry I didn't get back in last night. I guess I fell asleep." She pointedly avoided looking at Puck, and prayed he wouldn't blurt out where she'd really been. She didn't know how Emily was feeling about him, and she didn't want to rub salt into any wounds her friend might or might not be nursing.

The two girls called out noncommittal dismissals, not fully meeting her gaze.

Relda turned from the stove and lay a plate of pancakes on the table. "Dig in!" She invited them. "There's more coming."

There was an audible gasp as Emily and Jen took in the sight before them. It seemed Relda had found the time to stock up on her "usual ingredients" because the pancakes were neon orange, with bits of iridescent add-ins dotting the surface, and an untidy stack of what looked, in the very loosest sense, like purplish-red bacon beside them.

"What. . . is it?" Jen breathed.

"Seafood pancakes!" Granny called out enthusiastically. "The store finally got in a shipment of mother-of-pearl sprinkles this week. They're so good for your skin, you know. We can hold off aging for only so many centuries before it starts to show, and we need all the help we can get."

Daphne rushed into the kitchen then and slid into the chair next to Emily. "Whoo! Fried octopus! My favorite! Oh, Granny, you remembered! We can never get the streaky strips back in New York - everyone there is so health-conscious, you know; you can only ever find the ultra-lean kind."

"There is no such thing as streaky octopus," Jen argued weakly, before she could stop herself. "They're cephalopods. They don't have fat layers like -"

"Who cares?" Puck interrupted gleefully, and stuffed a strip into his mouth. "Mmmm. I need to have the cooks in Faerie import these. Sooooooo goooood."

Daphne swooned. "I know, right?"

"Oh! The syrup! I almost forgot." Relda chided herself, and brought a gravy boat over to the table. "Anemone! Sweeter than maple, so go slow."

Daphne drowned her pancakes in a waterfall of dusky pink and began to shovel down mouthfuls, a beatific look on her face.

Sabrina, torn between abject horror and an odd gratitude to Granny for her unwittingly serendipitous timing, calmly reached for the cereal box.

"I much prefer cereal in the mornings, myself," she said firmly, putting as much sympathy into her words as she could. "Gotta love the fiber."

Emily finally found her voice. "So it wasn't a nightmare."

"Wot washn?" Daphne spoke around a mouthful of food.

Emily looked helplessly at Jen and then, as if to steel herself, drew in a breath and said, "We were in Puck's room last night."

"Oh dear," Relda said, casting a look at the boy. "What did he do?"

"Nothing," Emily continued. "He . . . Sabrina. . ." she looked at Sabrina for the first time that morning.

"I told them, Granny," Sabrina finished. "I told them about us, about Ferryport, about Puck."

Daphne stopped chewing and stared, wide-eyed, around the table.

"Oh." Granny put her spatula down on the counter, her expression changing as comprehension dawned. She approached the table and leaned over it, her bright eyes not missing Sabrina's despondent slump. "And what did you think?"

"We're not . . . we don't know." Jen confessed for both of them, and Sabrina appreciated the humility it must have taken for her to admit her ignorance in anything.

Puck was mercifully silent, his only audible contribution the crunching of deep-fried streaky octopus between his teeth.

"It must have been a bit of a shock," Granny prompted gently. "It certainly was to Sabrina and Daphne when they first found out."

"Only to Sabrina!" Daphne countered. "I was a-okay with being a Grimm from the start!"

"You didn't always know?" Emily's surprise gave Sabrina a tiny bit of hope.

Sabrina shook her head. "I was eleven when I found out. Mom and Dad kept it from us. Then they got kidnapped by some evil organization - it's a long story - and Granny adopted us. And that's when she told us who we were."

"Sabrina was very resistant, and very angry," Granny confided and, for once, Sabrina didn't feel ashamed of her early reaction. It was true - she _had_ been disrespectful and cynical - and perhaps this honest portrayal of a person struggling to accept the truth might strike a chord with her two friends. "She tried to run away. It took her a long time to accept who she was, to accept us."

"I didn't want anything to do with this family for a while," Sabrina added, feeling sad even now to admit it. "I wanted normal, and I wanted my parents, who were missing, and I didn't believe any of this, even when it was staring me in the face."

Emily and Jen said nothing. Sabrina didn't blame them - what was there to say?

"You _were_ kind of a pain," Daphne candidly agreed.

"Yeah, you really were." Puck finally chipped in, downing the rest of his coffee. "Bellyaching every chance she got! I had to set her straight."

Sabrina frowned. Did he have to be quite so tactless? She opened her mouth to defend herself, but he hadn't finished yet.

"But then, you shoulda seen her fight. She led an army to war, and _won_. And almost died in the process, reckless fool. And she saved her parents and Basil, who was also kidnapped - I know, it's like a bad action movie; unbelievable that the Grimms would be so valuable to so many people - and brought down the barrier so the Everafters - that's the fairytale people - could go free. So yeah - after all that, we forgave her for whining." Puck caught her eye with a smirk, and Sabrina shut her mouth, suddenly pink-cheeked at the unmistakeable pride in his voice. She blinked away to catch Emily's stare darting between them, and cursed inwardly.

Daphne grinned knowingly and cleared her throat. "Maybe we should start at the beginning?"

"I think that would be an excellent idea!" Relda straightened, pleased. "Why don't you go ahead and talk? I'll clean up."

"But I'm not done yet!" Daphne protested, even as her grandmother shooed her away.

* * *

By lunchtime, the place was a riot.

Daphne had decked the house and yard out in colorful decorations and glitter, the amount of which made Sabrina suspect her sister had broken several rules regarding the casual use of magic in the presence of mortals. Tables had been produced from who-knew-where and laden with food, napkins and beverages. Puck came by just before the guests arrived to snottily declare the edibles "passable for a shindig like this"; later, Sabrina found him gazing fondly at a platter of blueberry muffins as she, Emily and Jen were laying out the last of the desserts.

"Hey, Grimm! Check these out! I bet they're from the Sacred Grounds!" He called to her. "I practically lived on them back when you gave me the puberty virus - I must've eaten the whole shop out. But anyway, I credit them for at least six inches of my current height. Whoa - here comes your Dad. Hello, old man."

Henry frowned at Puck. "That's rich, coming from you. You're what - pushing five thousand?"

"Watch it, Hank. I'm the one who's going to take your daughter off your hands in a few years."

Henry ignored him, turning to Sabrina instead. "Honey, I just got a call from the office. They need me back tomorrow, so I can't drive you to Hywell. I can stay through the party and leave first thing tomorrow, though, but I can't take the weekend off. Everyone's been called back. I'm so sorry. I'll talk to Tobias, and see if he can drive you instead. I'll make it up to you somehow, okay?"

Sabrina tried to hide her disappointment - she'd been looking forward to being with Henry, just the two of them; she hardly got to see him much now that he worked such long, unpredictable hours. But she nodded; she knew he was just as frustrated as she was.

"I'll take her," Puck said suddenly. "I don't need to be anyplace soon, anyway."

Sabrina stared at him in surprise, feeling a sudden thrill at the thought of spending more time with him so unexpectedly. "Really?"

"Yeah, sure."

Henry looked relieved, then uncertain, but Puck clapped him on the shoulder and drawled, "Relax. She'll be fine. I've kept her alive all these years, haven't I?"

* * *

When the guests finally arrived, it was like a big reunion of old friends, even though it'd only been a couple of years since the Grimms had left Ferryport Landing for the city. Sabrina's heart warmed to see their faces, although the conspicuous absence of many others, who'd died in the war, saddened her deeply. She forced her thoughts away from ghosts and regrets, and focused instead on the happy meetings between the living, many of whom, being immortal, hadn't changed at all since she'd first met them as a child, let alone in the short time she'd been away.

Some, however, were enjoying new subplots and spinoffs to their old stories - new jobs, marriage, a baby or two - like Snow White and William Charming, who'd had their first child while Sabrina was still living in town, and were now second-time parents. Snow looked as radiant as ever - if a bit sleep-deprived - cradling a toddler against one hip.

"Sabrina!" She embraced her, and Sabrina felt her hair tugged by the toddler's quick fists.

Snow absently disentangled Sabrina's hair from her son's fingers with, "No pulling. Hurts. No." From her distracted tone, Sabrina guessed it was an oft-repeated phrase. Her child and his prey successfully separated, Snow stepped back a safe distance, and smiled widely. "As beautiful as ever."

"Look who's talking, Mayor." Sabrina returned, grinning back. "How's that been since we'd left? No trouble, I hope? Oh, that's right - Granny's still here, so there's still one Grimm in town."

"Blissfully uneventful," Snow replied. "And it wouldn't matter even if there were _no_ Grimms left in Ferryport. There's no barrier, and people aren't bitter anymore. It's actually quite like a fairytale."

"Which we are slowly discovering is disturbingly real," Emily suddenly popped up beside them, in her hand a paper cup of something that sent up tiny blue bubbles.

Sabrina glanced at her friend quickly, and was relieved to see that she was smiling. With Daphne's help - her innocent childlike wonder made her a natural facilitator - the three girls had finally talked over the awkward revelations at breakfast. It was a circuitous discussion, with much backtracking to explain the origins of things (Emily and Jen had gasped when they'd discovered exactly how old Puck really was) but in the end, there came a silence. It was a silence pregnant with unspoken questions which their respective askers had decided were better left for a later time, even as they processed what had already been disclosed and judged. Unfinished though it was, it miraculously lacked the tension that Sabrina had been dreading.

She'd felt, inexplicably, that she still owed her friends an apology, even though she knew she'd done nothing to require that amends be made. So, hesitantly, she'd extended it.

"What for?" Emily had asked, bewildered.

"For . . . keeping it from you, I guess." Sabrina had responded, not entirely convinced herself.

"Everyone has the right to keep their secret lives . . . secret," Emily had countered. "Especially lives that were really no one's business but their own. I mean, it's not as if any part of your life intersected with any part of ours in ways that . . . that . . . Jen, what am I trying to say?"

"Necessitated confession," Jen had helpfully supplied. "You know, like if some guy one of us was dating was secretly Sabrina's grandfather who, because he was immortal like everyone else in this town, looked like a hot surfer dude, so no one could've guessed, and she had to put two and two together for us so we wouldn't accidentally be hooking up with, like. . . ewww. That's a terrible example, actually, but you know what I mean."

"I can vouch that no one from this town is dating either of you," Sabrina had assured them, albeit a little too forcefully.

She'd wondered, immediately after, where that had come from.

Now, Emily seemed more comfortable, mingling with the guests and not even batting an eyelid at their unnaturally good looks and overflowing charm. And from what she'd seen of Jen's interactions with the princesses, she was either herself fangirling at every turn, or else engaged in collecting first-hand historical accounts from whoever she'd managed to accost. Sabrina decided that the worst was over, and even if her friends were for the moment simply acting like they were in a pantomime, she'd take what she'd got, and hope for sanity to slowly catch up later.

The girl in question suddenly materialized beside Emily, eyes shining.

"Sabrina! I can't believe it! I just met Rip Van Winkle! And - oh! You must be Snow White! Eeeeeeee! Argh, I'm so bummed that we can't take photos!"

Sabrina smiled and introduced the Mayor to her two friends.

Snow's eyes suddenly drifted behind Sabrina.

"Oh, here's Old Mother Hubbard. Poor dear, she hasn't been the same since Fido died a couple of years back. The townsfolk pooled together to buy her a refurbished laptop so she could watch Youtube videos and Netflix, but you know how it is without someone to monitor what kind of sites you wander into."

Old Mother Hubbard hobbled up and wrapped Sabrina in a musty embrace. "Sabrina! What a lovely party! I couldn't be more pleased for you! Look! I even brought the rice for the happy couple! I tried to boogle modern customs but it was all so confusing and -" she lowered her voice to a conspiratorial whisper, which was still loud enough for everyone to hear "- _dreadfully_ inappropriate, so I fell back on what _we_ used to do back in the day. I hope you don't mind."

"She means 'Google'," Snow informed Sabrina under her breath.

Sabrina stared, bewildered, at the bag of basmati rice in the old lady's wrinkled hands.

"Happy couple?" She stammered.

"Yes!" Mother Hubbard beamed. "Congratulations on your wedding, dear! Everyone's been saying it's about time you and that fairy boy tied the knot."

"No, Mother," Sabrina said, uncomfortably, while Emily and Jen stifled laughs. "We're not getting married. I'm going to college, and Puck's driving me."

"Eh? Where?"

"COLLEGE," Sabrina repeated loudly. "School."

" _School?_ " Mother Hubbard sounded revolted. "For a _honeymoon_? That's hardly romantic! Where is Puck? I must have words with that boy. Young people these days!"

"No!" Sabrina called after her as she walked off, far more sprightly in her new mission than she'd been earlier. "Don't say anything to him! I'll never hear the end of it! Snow, we have to stop her!"

Snow patted Sabrina's arm. "She's harmless. She'll probably wander off and find someone else to throw rice at, poor sweetheart. Although, speaking of whom, how are you and Puck doing?"

"Yes, how _are_ you and Puck doing?" Jen asked, grinning.

"Shove off, Jen," Sabrina growled, and her two friends left gaily, planning to tail Old Mother Hubbard to see she'd do with the rice.

"Seriously, Sabrina," Snow picked up when they were once again alone, "what's new with you both?"

Sabrina felt her cheeks warm as she answered, "Nothing. I mean, we haven't had a terribly big fight in months. He's really less annoying as he gets older."

Snow looked knowingly at Sabrina. "And the years have been kind to him, haven't they? He's certainly been turning heads at this party."

"Urgh. Don't let him hear it. His own head's already big enough."

"Sabrina," Snow continued relentlessly, "you know what I mean. Hasn't he proposed yet?"

Sabrina stared, aghast, at her old friend.

"I'm nineteen!" She whisper-shouted.

"Well, I was fourteen when I married Billy. . . the first time, I mean."

Sabrina gave an exaggerated cough. "That's not even legal."

"Not now, no, but back then. . . anyway, we're not talking about me. When are you two going to stop pretending to be just friends?"

Sabrina shook her head in disbelief. "Snow, I'm going to college. It's not a good time -"

"He's had a crush on you since you were kids. Are you in love with him?"

"Stop. Just stop. It's not like you to be so . . . un-feminist."

"I'm still totally feminist. But I'm just surprised that, in spite of all that's been thrown at you, and how you clearly feel about each other, you haven't, you know. . . I care about you, Sabrina. Look - even destiny's got you two matched - maybe you both need to cooperate, and here's the feminist me talking: if _he_ isn't going to make the move, maybe _you_ need to do it."

Sabrina couldn't believe what she was hearing. Snow, of all people, should know that it was perfectly acceptable to _not_ get together with a guy simply because everyone said she should. Then again, the Mayor _had_ spent most of her life as a princess and diehard romantic which, Sabrina supposed, sometimes presented itself in opposition to her modern sensibilities.

She decided she wasn't in the mood to play Snow's game; much as she loved and respected her friend, this was a graduation party and, by Jove, she wasn't going to be sidetracked by fluffy suggestions to the contrary.

"Snow," she hugged the stately Mayor and resorting to speaking her language, "I've gotta go make my rounds. But when - _if_ \- I figure out that I want him, I'll be the first to -"

She stopped mid-sentence as Puck sauntered up to them, smirking.

"What's this I hear about us being married . . . again?" He asked Sabrina.

"Oh, no. Old Mother Hubbard found you."

"Crazy old thing came up and hurled a bag of rice at me. Said I should be ashamed of picking such a - and I quote - 'horridly unromantic venue for your honeymoon; had your parents taught you nothing?' "

Sabrina winced. "Do I even want to know what you said to that?"

"I convinced her that she'd misheard, and that we were off to Pompeii, like I'd wanted in the beginning, and we were actually _eloping_ , not getting married, because it ticked more people off that way. And she said it couldn't be, because back in the day, no one ever threw an elopement party for er . . . eloping, but I reminded her that I'm King of Faerie, and I could jolly well throw an elopement party if I wanted to, so there."

Sabrina's jaw dropped. "You didn't!"

"I sure did. She was still standing there, working it out, when I left her. Take that for throwing rice at me, ye old bat."

"Puck!"

"She missed the real point, though," Puck continued, looking extremely put out, "which was: _as if_ we'd get married with this bunch of losers in attendance. We're missing three-quarters of the guest list, including Baba Yaga, my all-time-hero, and all the Fae from the North Kingdom whom Mother simply loathes because they have no manners at all. Which is why they'd be perfect for the wedding feast."

Sabrina growled at him and turned away. He came over and draped an arm around her shoulders. "Come on, sweet-ums. I'd even let you pick which crumbling hotel ruins to spend our wedding night in."

Sabrina shoved him off, rolling her eyes. "I will never marry you."

Puck's own eyes glinted as he let her go, but Sabrina thought she saw a tiny crease appear between them, before it disappeared altogether.

" 'S'not what Fate says, honeybuns!" He tossed over his shoulder as he strutted off.

Sabrina sighed as she turned to see the triumphant look on Snow's face.

"Don't even . . ." she warned.

"That's no crush," the Mayor said slowly. "That's a boy in love testing the waters . . . with no intention of giving up."


	5. Chapter Five: WE

When the afternoon had faded to a rosy sunset with most of the guests slowly trickling off the premises, Emily and Jen packed their belongings into the back of their rental Honda and prepared to head home. Sabrina stood alone and watched them with a full heart.

Jen was the first to throw open her arms.

"Wouldn't have missed it for the world," she answered Sabrina's unspoken question. "We're okay, Bri. Our lips are sealed, our cellphones clean of incriminating photos, and I'm not even going to think this one through. I've decided this will be one of those times when logic gets the day off. You know, like when you watch Star Wars or Harry Potter or something."

"Thank you," Sabrina managed, already missing her friend so acutely that it felt like a seizure. "I'm so happy for you and Roy, by the way."

Jen giggled. "Yeah. You and me both."

She stepped back and Sabrina locked eyes with Emily.

"Hey, you." Emily said, and then Sabrina was hugging her fiercely.

"I wanted to tell you," she bit back tears, "for so long. You, especially."

"Well, ya did," Emily laughed. "I just didn't believe you, did I? Not that you could blame me. If I hadn't seen what I've seen this weekend. . . " She looked vaguely uncomfortable, as she pulled out of the hug and faced Sabrina. "So. . . confession: you probably know I . . . I thought your arranged-marriage guy was kinda cute, and I'm sorry . . . I thought he was on the market. I didn't know -"

Sabrina snorted.

"Stop. One, he's not my arranged-marriage guy. And two, I _did_ try to warn you that it was . . . complicated. It's fine, Em."

"Although . . . he _is_ somewhat easy on the eye," Jen interjected, looking innocent.

"And we can see why you've been keeping him a secret." Emily grinned.

Sabrina rolled her eyes.

"Something needs to happen," Emily told her sternly. "I'd march up to him right now like I threatened with Roy, but it looks like he doesn't need any help, what with all the flirting that's been going on between you two. Get with the program, 'Brina, and put the boy out of his misery. . . and yours."

"You tell it, sister," Jen quipped and, seeing Sabrina's glare, defended herself, "I'm just returning the favor! Especially since it's already in the cards . . . or something like that, right?"

"The arranged marriage, yeah." Emily confirmed, nodding sagely.

"Why fight fate?" Jen finished on a rhetorical note.

"Go away," Sabrina told them, but not unkindly. "Don't you guys have a train or something to catch?"

"Send us the save-the-dates," Jen teased as she slid into the front passenger seat.

"I really might elope just to spite you," Sabrina finally gave in and played along, before deftly changing the subject. "Go easy on your new classmates, Jen - try to fail an assignment every now and then just so they know you're human."

"Says the immortal girl who lives with a fairy," Jen shot back.

Emily's grin faded as Sabrina turned back to her, and her eyes mirrored real concern. When she spoke, her voice was soft.

"Seriously, though, Brina, what's that even like? Are you okay about it?"

"What's what like?" Sabrina asked, although she had a pretty good idea of what Emily meant.

"Come on - knowing for sure who you'd end up with? Clearly you and Puck have chemistry, and he's - I mean, _look_ at the guy! You're probably not complaining, right? But . . . I kept thinking about it, and it's like, if I'd known Will and I weren't going to work out in the end, would I've even bothered to try? But if I didn't - if we never had those two years together - I'd have missed so much. And then _you_ \- are you even going to seriously date anyone else, or is there no point - because you might as well just stay home and wait to marry the guy you're fated to marry? And do you even know if you guys are . . . for good? Or if you might get divorced a couple centuries down the road, or what? It's just so weird and . . . _sad_."

Sabrina exhaled long and loud.

"I don't know, Em. I just . . . don't know." Her answer, while ineloquent, was as honest as it'd ever be, and she appreciated that at least someone else had caught a glimpse of how twisted this particular aspect of her not-normal life felt.

Emily hugged her once more. "Well . . . call, if you wanna . . . let off steam about it. I promise I won't be all cynical, even if I'm stuck in my own romantic ditch right now. And if you wanna share, you know, details . . ." she flashed Sabrina a sudden conspiratorial grin, "I'm all ears, too."

Sabrina shoved her shoulder, driving them apart, even as she smiled at her friend. It was hard letting Emily go, hard believing that she'd find another confidante in the world, let alone college, that would come close to her.

Emily finally slid into the driver's seat. She lifted one hand from the steering wheel, brought two fingers together and mouthed _details_ suggestively at Sabrina, even as she backed out of the driveway.

Sabrina watched them drive off into the distance, waving even after she was sure they could no longer see her.

* * *

After dinner, when the household had retired from exhaustion to their various sleeping-places, Sabrina walked to her bedroom and got into her pajamas. Her room felt oddly empty without the two sleeping bags on the floor and the voices of her friends, even though the one night they'd actually been there had ended in disaster. A quiet contentment settled over her, blanketing the dull ache from missing them - they knew as much about her now as she knew herself, and yet she hadn't lost them, hadn't driven them away. In spite of being alone tonight, it felt like a victory, a good portend of the next big undertaking in her life. If she could bridge the gap between friends, she thought hopefully, maybe she could find ways to span the wider chasms between peoples, cultures, the old and the new, mortals and immortals.

She stilled, thinking; weighing.

Then she grabbed her pillow and left her room, padding softly down the hallway once more to Puck's.

He whistled when he saw her.

"Second night in a row! Better watch out that your dad doesn't find you here."

"So what if he does?" Sabrina shot back, hopping up and rolling beside him on the trampoline. "I'm nineteen, not twelve."

Puck smiled lazily. "I've noticed."

She blushed in spite of herself. She never knew how to react when Puck said things like that. He was messing with her mind!

"Feel better?" He asked when she was settled, and Sabrina was hit by a sense of deja vu.

"Yeah." What a difference a day made; less than twenty-four hours earlier, she'd been convinced she'd excommunicated herself from everyone forever.

She took Puck's hand and lay her head against his shoulder. He stiffened for a split second, and then relaxed.

"I'm glad you came." Sabrina began.

"Wouldn't have missed it. How often do we get to freak mortals out? Repeatedly and without consequence, I mean? Best. Weekend. Ever."

"I'll only say this once," Sabrina ignored him, "and if you tell anyone, I'll deny it, but . . . you were awesome today. Thank you."

He smirked. "If you make this a habit, Grimm, I'll have no choice but to believe you're in love with me."

"Puck."

"What?"

"We were having a moment. You just ruined it."

"Oh."

Sabrina looked up at the stars, not recognizing any of the constellations.

"Those aren't _our_ stars," she observed in surprise, wondering how she'd never noticed before.

"Nope - Faerie stars. Bunny did that for me. It reminded me of home. . . my _other_ home, I mean."

He hardly ever spoke of Faerie, Sabrina realized, or talked about home, apart from throwing it around as a status symbol of his power (which he had every right to do, she supposed, being King and all). But never as a place he'd missed, or which held special memories of a childhood, or any time before he'd left, both in shame and, later, by choice. And here he was now, looking at the stars he'd found important enough to have recreated on the ceiling of his new world.

"Tell me some of them," she said.

So he did, pointing out the Scepter, the Horn, the Wild Hunt, the River of Glory, and the Mother Cypress, a brilliant crystal teardrop pointing due South. He'd followed it to Ferryport Landing when he'd been banished from Faerie, he said, because it alone was so bright that he could see it even in this world.

He fell silent after, lost in dark memories. Sabrina gazed at his profile, at the constellations that were pinpricks of light in his eyes, and saw him again as a little boy without his family, pushing people away because it was all he knew to protect himself. She remembered looking at him once, long ago, when she'd felt powerless to hold her own family together, envying him for what he could do, for what he was, for how much knew and had at his disposal. She hadn't known then how little he really had, how much he'd lost. In the end, it was she who had more; she, for all his centuries of life, who'd seemed the older.

"Penny for your thoughts," she murmured.

He turned and squinted perfunctorily at her before returning his gaze to the stars. "That's cheap."

She rubbed her thumb over his, feeling the callouses from his sword, from fighting wars and slaying monsters. He didn't flinch, didn't squeeze her hand back, didn't do anything to show he'd felt it.

"You sell yourself short," he said suddenly.

Sabrina's thumb froze. "What?"

"Every time," he continued, still looking at the sky. "You always think the worst of yourself: how plain you look, how helpless, how you're this one girl against the whole world. I mean, sure, you bellyache about it, but you need to know -" he turned at last to look at her, and instead of the constellations, she saw herself in his eyes, looking back, "- how strong and _amazing_ you are, how you can set out to do something and you _do_ it, even though there are monsters and armies and demons and who knows what else coming at you, and you're not afraid of anything if it means keeping your family safe, and . . . how absolutely beautiful . . . " He inhaled. "How, when I look at you, I _swear_ you take my breath away. Every. Single. Time."

Sabrina was stunned speechless.

"That's why I did it," Puck sighed. "I had to tell Emily and Jen what you did for the town, for your parents. They needed to see that your world wasn't just fairytales coming to life and living forever, as if you were hiding Disneyland in your backyard. They'd never know who you really are that way. You could show them all the townsfolk and make everyone turn into pigs and wolves but they'd never understand until they knew how _you_ fit in it, how _you_ made it all happen, made it all safe. That's the real you, Sabrina. And _now_ that they know, _now_ when they _still_ want to stick around, haven't run away screaming, _that's_ the real deal. Anything less isn't worth crap."

Tears welled up in Sabrina's eyes. She swallowed, but her throat was clogged with everything she couldn't say.

"I did, however, leave out what you did for _me_. That's none of their business." Puck finished smugly.

"And what's that?" Sabrina finally found her voice, although what with her throat acting up and all (she claimed), it came out huskier than she'd intended.

Puck narrowed his eyes at her. "Are you really so dense?" And before she could register what he was doing, he'd flipped his body over hers, slid his hand into her hair and bent down.

"Oh, Puck, no," she whispered in panic, putting her hands on his chest to stop him.

He froze.

"Why not?" he breathed into the space between them and Sabrina's heart shattered to hear the sadness, the desperation. He shifted back, unsure, his eyes troubled. "Did I . . . was it another moment I ruined?"

"Oh, no, no, never. You did everything right, Puck," she promised, her hands reaching to cup his face. She felt the faint stubble of his cheeks against her palms, the hard edge of his jaw under her fingertips. _No longer a boy_.

"Then why?" He repeated, sounding so vulnerable and so confused that Sabrina almost gave in and pulled his lips to hers. But - no; if she did, there was no going back. "What about that kiss? You know, that time with the poisoned apple. . . didn't you. . . _don't_ you. . .?"

He couldn't say it, and she didn't think she'd ever heard him sound so unlike himself as in that moment.

"I love you so much," she finished for him, her throat painful from the emotion that was wracking her body, "that I'm scared of losing what we have. If we do this, if we change . . . _us_ , and it doesn't work out, I'll lose you. And I _can't_ lose you, Puck, I _can't_."

He frowned, not comprehending. Why did she have to analyze _everything_?

"You . . . love me. . . but you don't . . . you want us to stay like _this_?" He struggled to understand.

"Yes." She sounded selfish. She _knew_ she sounded selfish. Not to mention illogical.

"To be just friends." He translated, incredulous.

She floundered. "Yes. Well, not really. I . . . I love what we have _now_ , what we are. I don't want to lose this."

"Don't you get it? We can't. _I_ can't. We've _already lost this_ , Sabrina. I'm not _just_ your _friend_. I haven't been for a long time because I've been _in love_ with you, you stupid girl."

She heard the desperation becoming frustration, becoming anger as he went on, "I thought we knew this would happen someday, after what you saw in the future, after seeing myself grown-up, after hearing what he said to me -"

Sabrina sat upright, pushing Puck fully away, feeling her own frustration boil within her. "I'm _sick_ of hearing what Fate says we should do! Prophecies, heritage, destiny - we're all slaves to their whim. We win wars because the prophecy said so. We document history because that's what our heritage is. I was fine with that. I came to terms with it. Heck, I even _embraced_ it. But Fate telling me whom to _marry_? As if all the other loves I could have either won't ever happen, or will lead to nothing in the end? Where is the mystery in that? The meaning? What kind of love is it that happens because we were _told_ to choose each other?"

"You're saying you don't think it's real, because of _Fate_?" Puck asked slowly.

"I'm saying I don't think much of my future being decided for me."

Puck blinked, taking several heavy breaths.

"If you hadn't gone to the future, hadn't seen what happens to us," he reasoned, unusually solemn, "would you pick me?"

"Exactly! Would I? If we'd met in some coffee shop somewhere, out of the blue, would I have picked you?"

"Well, would you?"

"I don't know! Maybe! If I'd known what you could be like, if you and I were like this now, yeah, sure. But we'd never know, would we? Because we can't ever un-know what we now know, about the future. We can't ever know if love would've worked that way or not."

"Listen to yourself, Grimm!" Puck gaped at her, astonished. "Love works _exactly_ like that. People meet, and they fall in love. Or not. Has nothing to do with the future and everything to do with the _people;_ sometimes they click, and sometimes they don't. Hel-lo! Can anyone tell me what's wrong with this picture? Because it sure looks like _I_ , the Trickster King, reviler of all sappy things and lord of mockery and satire, am lecturing _you_ on love! Aren't females supposed to be good at this stuff?"

"Oh, yeah? So you're saying we clicked. In spite of everything Fate might have decreed."

"Darned right we did. Couldn't find a less likely pair in the cosmos than us but somehow, we work. You said it yourself - you love what we have, what we are. The future has nothing to do with it. I mean, sure, it's a fun thing to throw in your face to annoy you, especially when we were younger, but these days, it gives me hope that we're on the right track, that we'd actually made it happen, and you'd be happy with me."

Sabrina glared at him, overwhelmed, angry, sad, her heart tight and beating like a drum.

He turned away and sighed.

"If it makes any difference," he said tiredly, "I started growing up for you long _before_ you told me about the future. And I would've still, even if you hadn't."

He lay down with his back to her, and she watched his side rise and fall with his breathing. Her pillow lay askew, the absence of her head on it beside his an emphatic taunt in the silence between them.

* * *

One hour later, Sabrina was still on the trampoline, and Puck still hadn't spoken.

"I'm kinda surprised you haven't walked away," she began, almost expecting him to be asleep.

"Why should I? My room, my bed."

"And you haven't asked me to leave."

"No reason to. You kinda already did, in a way."

"So we're gonna stay here, together, the whole night?"

"If you want."

Sabrina frowned. This was _not_ how such situations were supposed to play out, at least according to the movies she'd watched, or the books she'd read.

"Usually, when this happens, one person goes off in a huff to be alone, and the other is left wondering what a mess they've made," she observed.

He didn't turn. "Feel free to do either."

She rubbed her hands over her face, then tried again. "You're not asleep."

Puck finally rolled over. He looked, Sabrina thought, more exasperated than heartbroken.

"I don't know what to do now," she told him in desperation, and hated how vulnerable she sounded.

He rolled his eyes. "You could stop talking and go to sleep, so I can, too."

"And you're okay with that?"

"Of course. We've done this before. It's very easy. Allow me to demonstrate," he answered, his voice dripping with sarcasm as he mimed zipping his mouth and then lying on his back with his eyes closed.

"You're mad at me." Sabrina knew she was being a total _girl_ , and she was disgusted, but she couldn't help it. She consoled herself with the idea that it was her last night before she headed off to college, before she struck out on her own and became a Grown-Up, her last night to be an absolute _child_ with the boy who, for most of his life, had been exactly that. And yet the irony stunned her - that when they _had_ been children, she'd have thought nothing of writing him off. When had he become so important to her over the years they'd spent getting used to each other that now, she couldn't walk away, not like this?

Puck sighed deeply. "Sabrina, _what_ do you want me to do? According to you, I'm supposed to be your _friend_ from now on, whatever the heck _that_ looks like, and I'll get started on that first thing tomorrow. Tonight, though, I just wanna sleep. Because come morning, I have to drive you to your prison thing."

"College," she corrected for the umpteenth time. "And it'll be so awkward in the car if we're like this. Can't we go back to being what we were, Puck? The _us_ that was so wonderful?"

"Sorry, no can do. That _us_ was me _not_ being Just Friends with you, and _you_ being in denial. We've left that behind now."

"I wasn't in denial," she retorted, and reddened because she knew it was a lie.

"Believe whatever. This here is us being Just Friends, in case you haven't caught on - going to sleep on the same bed, saying goodnight. Goodnight!"

Sabrina growled in frustration. She knew he was right, but she didn't want _this_.

"I know what you're doing, Puck - you're trying to guilt me into letting you kiss me."

He opened his eyes and glared at her. "What a demented view of kissing you have, woman. I _never_ have to resort to _guilting_ people into kissing me! But we're missing the point here, aren't we? It sounds like you don't much care for Just Friends, after all."

"It's awful!" She admitted morosely.

His eyes glinted. "So you want more, then?"

"No!"

Puck smacked the palm of his hand against his forehead, then leveled his gaze at her. "Liar."

"I want old Puck back! Give him back!" Did she care that she was begging? No, she did not.

"Admit that Just Friends stinks."

"It doesn't!"

"Repeat after me: 'I want to be more than Just Friends. I want to make out with you right now, and to heck with Fate.' "

"No!"

"Fine, then." He turned his back on her once more.

"Stop! I don't know! I don't know what I want! I know I want you, but not . . . I don't know how . . . I can't. . . I . . ."

He flipped back around, grinning. "Ah! A chink in her armor. She has admitted that she doesn't _know_ , which, ladies and gentlemen, is _quite_ different than 'All my money's on Just. Freaking. Friends.' Now _this_ , I can work with."

"What are you talking about?" Sabrina was puzzled.

"I propose an experiment, O deluded one," he sat up on his elbows. "I'll travel with you to your _college_ -" he spat the word out like it was poison, "- and spend three days there. During those three days, I shall convince you that Just Friends is a load of crap and that you really, actually do want to be more than that."

"How?" Sabrina asked, forgetting to vehemently deny any interest whatsoever.

"Sorry - that's part of the experiment; I can't tell you. Do you agree?"

She scrunched up her face as if she'd smelled something rank. "And what if the experiment fails?"

"Then we go back to being _this:_ constipated stupids arguing in the middle of the night. But it won't fail."

"Don't be too sure, Stinkbutt."

"Now, if it _works_. . ." he cast her a warning glance, "you will hand over your soul to me, and swear never to spout such nonsense again. Just Friends, my foot! Deal?"

"If I agree, will I get you - old Puck - back again?"

"Yup."

She considered.

"Okay - deal." She decided, and the relief that flooded through her was so palpable, she almost burst into tears.

"Brilliant. Now, for Pete's sake, let's go to bed!"

Sabrina beamed, and snuggled against him. She had him back, she'd gotten her way, and all was well with the world. Let Puck have his sordid experiment - she knew _exactly_ what she wanted, and there was no way in the cosmos that anything could be better than _this_.

Puck, however, glanced at her golden head next to his, and rolled his eyes. She was so unbelievably stupid, he thought with relish. No wonder she kept needing to go back to school.

Not that school was good for anything, he hastily clarified with himself.

He closed his eyes and pressed his cheek against her hair, feeling victory already in his grasp, even though he had absolutely no clue as to how he was going to pull this off. He would have to trust Fate, he decided; after all, he and Fate had a lot in common in the way they made the foolish their playthings.

He grinned into the darkness.

This was going to be so. Much. Fun.

* * *

 **A/N: Aaaaand we have moved forward! Well, three steps forward and two steps back still counts as overall forward, I guess.**

 **I've always thought that if P+S began their relationship at the age of twelve, neither would've had the capacity to know what to do with themselves, let alone each other. It would've been a disaster even before it took off. But at a later age, when they'd had time to be around each other without a war to win, or famil(ies) to reconcile with, or pubescent hormones to get used to, they might just like what they found. And I asked myself: when they came to that point, which of them would be more likely to hold on to denial like a shield? The answer, once I'd worked it out in my head, surprised me. But I wrote it anyway, with all its side plots of yearning and desire and fear and control issues, along with the rare and incongruent vulnerability that one only seems to display when one is faced with the prospect of losing something - or someone - unspeakably important.**

 **Unrelated, I've decided that if ever someone were to be cast to play young-adult Puck in a movie, it'd have to be Jude Law, circa 2000, in all his classical chiseled elfin beauty.**

 **Also, I realize that I never said how long this fic was going to be - 9 chapters. They're all written, and I'm editing them with the aim of posting a new chapter each week, usually just before the weekend. So no worries about waiting too long between updates!**

 **Finally, replying to reviews I couldn't get to via PM:**

 **Sophia: Thank you! Yes, the tension was fun to write, especially knowing where I was taking P+S in the later chapters. I didn't want it to be just two foolish kids in denial for the sake of denial - they're nineteen, after all, not twelve. Hope you enjoyed this chapter!**

 **Guest (5/31/2016): Thank you for saying that! I am always happy for feedback about the characterization - it can be tricky to get right(ish) when extending them beyond their age in the original books.**


	6. Chapter Six: Operation Stupid Day 1

"Oh, it's so romantic!" Daphne sighed as she watched Sabrina get into Puck's SUV amidst a flurry of goodbyes and last-minute advice. "All it needs are some tin cans tied to the back bumper and a _Just Married_ sign. Hey. . . !" Her eyes suddenly lit up. "Where's my wand?"

"No, Daphne," Henry warned, "for heaven's sake, don't encourage them."

"Aw, Dad. You know it's a done deal."

But neither Sabrina nor Puck seemed to have heard Daphne, and Henry turned away thankfully. As he watched them, he wondered if, perhaps, it had not been one of his better ideas to let Puck drive Sabrina to Hywell. It wasn't that he had doubts about the boy's skill behind the wheel - it was more to do with how close the two had recently become. Neither he nor Veronica had been able to figure out what was going on between them - for all their banter and roughhousing, there seemed to be a line they hadn't crossed, a territory of which they were either oblivious, or else avoiding for some reason or other. Not that he was complaining - it was always strange, he decided, for a father to accept that some other man could love his daughter as much as he. _If_ it was indeed love, and not some superficial thing that might leave her heartbroken months - or years- down the road. The thought made his stomach roil.

Sabrina leaned out of the car window, biting her lip, her face suddenly pinched. Too many goodbyes in a very short time were taking a toll on her.

Veronica bent to lay her palm on her cheek.

"We'll see you at Thanksgiving, maybe sooner, if there's a weekend that works for us to come visit," she promised. "You're going to be fine."

Sabrina nodded, her eyes huge. In spite of psyching herself all week for this moment, it still tied her insides in knots.

"If anyone gives you trouble, " Henry added, "you know all you need to take them down. Say hello to Professor Swiftfoot for me."

"Okay, Dad."

"I'll give everyone death glares when I get there," Puck promised from the driver's seat. "It's how Fae mark our territory."

" _Territory?_ " Sabrina's voice rose dangerously high.

"Be glad I'm not a dog," Puck replied pleasantly. "Yet."

Henry sighed as Basil snorted with laughter and let Sabrina ruffle his hair.

"Take care of everyone, Bas." She told her brother.

"Make sure you eat well!" Granny called out, smiling.

"We'll see you soon, child." Mr Canis waved, as Red did the same beside him.

And then, at last, it was Daphne's turn. She crouched by Sabrina's window, her smile a little forced.

"Bye, sis. Don't forget to Skype me." She said.

"Don't take any nonsense from anyone," Sabrina replied.

"I won't."

They fell silent, each watching the other's eyes, wondering at the way the years had just vanished behind them, at how they'd suddenly come to this point in their lives when they were supposed to not need each other, at least not from the next room, one bed away, a heartbeat apart.

Sabrina pulled Daphne's head toward her, and planted a kiss on the top of it. "Be safe, big girl," she said softly. "This is our new normal now. And you can borrow all the clothes in my closet if you want."

Daphne's eyes lit up. "Shoes, too?"

The corners of Sabrina's lips twitched. "If they fit, go for it."

Her sister straightened, her mood considerably brighter. Then, just before she stepped back, her eyes flitted to Puck, who was watching them.

"Don't let Sabrina do anything stupid," she ordered fiercely.

"Too late, Marshmallow. Her whole life is a study on it."

Sabrina hit his leg, but the comment had done its job - the pall of moroseness had lifted. She took a deep breath, waved, and fixed her eyes forward.

"Let's get this show on the road," she told Puck.

"Sure you're done with the weepy farewells?"

"Floor it."

And they were off, tires squealing, dust clouds obscuring their departure from everything familiar, toward the grand and glorious unknown.

* * *

It was, as Sabrina had predicted, awkward.

For one thing, they had never been in a car alone; before, when they were together, driving - earthbound - wasn't how they usually got around. They'd always flown - it was faster, more spontaneous, less claustrophobic, and put them in such close proximity that Sabrina had never had to think about what to do with her hands, or legs.

Or the space between them.

Because there never used to be space between them.

Now, she sat in the passenger seat while he sat in the driver's, an arm's length away, near enough to touch but not without reason, the music from the radio a poor substitute for the wind around her ears, stealing their words, their breaths.

For another, she was on high alert, his proposition from the night before making her suspicious of every gesture, making her read too deeply into each innocent phrase. He was going to convince her, he'd said. Not _attempt to show_ , not _try to persuade_ , not anything that might have been tentative or merely optimistic. Instead, he'd made it sound as if he had it all figured out, like he could flick a switch and she'd instantly see the light.

Could she prepare herself for it somehow, or was it going to be one of those sneak attacks that were his calling card since the first day she'd met him? Or - worse - would she see it coming but be powerless to stop it anyway, like a tidal wave that would drag her, helpless, in its undertow, while he smirked at how easy it all was, how she'd never stood a chance from the beginning, how she'd been _wrong_?

She shook her head - no, enough of this paranoia! _Surely_ she knew her heart better than that.

She turned to Puck and made herself relax.

"So, how did your date with the troll go?"

Puck grinned. "900 acres. Told ya."

Sabrina didn't bother to hide her astonishment. " _900 acres_? Wow. I thought you were wrestling for, I dunno, a cornfield."

"Nope. I don't do cornfields. Not worth my time."

"Well, what're you gonna do with 900 acres? Let them all lie neglected with the other million acres of conquered land, I suppose?"

"Uh, no!" Puck exclaimed in disgust. "It's worthless that way! Till it, for starters. It's in such bad shape; trolls never do anything with their fields. The goblins at least have the smarts to rotate their crops once every century or so. So, yeah . . . till it, grow something on it, put some life back into the earth. After that, divvy it up, hold a lottery for the families who lost their homes to the fire a couple of years back and start handing out the plots. Everyone's happy, and it didn't cost me a cent."

Sabrina was speechless. And very impressed.

"That's . . . actually a really good plan," she admitted, "and something a really good king would do."

"Don't sound so surprised! But lest you think I'm all clouds and rainbows, I'm also keeping a part of it to trade back to the trolls for . . . uh, let us say. . . _favors_."

"They're dumb enough to trade for their _own_ land?"

"You'd better believe it."

"Well, I hope you got the land deeds all in order, then. It would be a lawyer's playground otherwise."

"Deeds?" Puck flashed her a bewildered face. "What's a deed?"

"You _don't know_ what a deed is?"

Puck laughed. "Got you! Sucker. Of course I know what a deed is, duh. But we don't do deeds in Faerie. Here, we prefer: my land, your land - you trespass, you lose your soul." He mimed demarcating territories with one free hand, then slicing it across his throat.

"Please tell me you're joking."

"Unh-uh. Rex non potest pecarre*. Which is Latin, which I'm fluent in, even without going to -" he shuddered, "- _school_. It means, lowly peasant -"

Sabrina shifted fully in her seat to face him.

"I know what it means, Puck. And that might've worked a thousand years ago, but it's not going to cut it in the twenty-first century, especially now that your world is bleeding into ours. Sooner or later, you're going to deal with someone less . . . primitive than a troll, and land yourself a massive lawsuit. You need someone to handle all this legal and admin stuff."

He turned his gaze from the road to glance at her. "You volunteering?"

Sabrina chuckled. "At nineteen? Come head-hunt me in four years, bud."

"You're on," he said. "There's a job waiting for you in Faerie when you've served your time."

"Again, can we stop with the prison analogies?"

Puck ignored her, looking dreamily toward the horizon. "I get to be your boss and order you around. This is all kinds of awesome."

"And I get paid to save your butt. That's all kinds of pathetic."

"Or you could be my queen and do it for the love of your kingdom . . . and its drop-dead gorgeous king."

" _Or_ I could get paid to save your butt."

He sighed. "Females! Forever playing hard to get. Centuries of progress and yet they're still the same."

Sabrina smiled to herself. _Puck - 0, Sabrina - 1._

"So," she continued, "this experiment - is this part of it?"

"Is what part of it?"

" _This_ \- trying to impress me with your kingliness."

Puck snorted. "Is that _fear_ I smell?"

"I'm not afraid! I just don't want you sneaking up on me with some . . . scheme."

"How deliciously paranoid you are. It makes it all the more fun. Hey -" his eyes drifted to a billboard beside an exit ramp and swerved to leave the highway, "- rest stop _and_ coffee! Fate is totally smiling down on us. Want anything? Restroom? Large, carb-loaded cinnamon roll with two-inch frosting?"

Sabrina felt her arteries clog simply from hearing the description. "Just coffee. And I'll stay in the car. Don't think I don't know what this is, Stinker."

"What?"

"Don't pretend. I really don't care to watch you flirt with the barista to _try_ to make me jealous."

Puck killed the engine and widened his eyes at her. "It _was_ fear that I smelt! Ha! But nope, not on the agenda. Flirting with someone to make someone else jealous? _Such_ a rookie move. 'Sides, if I'd wanted to stoop that low, I'd have picked your friend Emily over some random stranger."

"You _knew_?"

"Couldn't keep her eyes off me."

Sabrina gagged. "You're so full of it!"

"Whatever. Point is, that's not how I roll. _I_ -" he waggled his eyebrows at her, "- am _yours_ for keeps, babe."

"Just get me the coffee, Snothead!" Sabrina seethed as she pushed him out.

 _* The King can do no wrong_

* * *

Just after noon, they stopped for lunch at a diner with food of dubious origins and even shadier customers, one of whom tipsily tried to chat up Sabrina on her way to the restroom. When she shifted to get past him, he stuck his arm out to bar her way.

"Seriously?" She spat, incredulous. "What do you think this is - a Z-grade movie? Nobody does that move anymore."

When he lunged for her, she ducked and swung her fist upward into his belly, and kicked his shins hard. Then, as he fell, she called out, "Fire! He started it!" and stepped over him to use the facilities.

When she came back out, there was no sign of the offensive man and the other customers were eyeing her warily. Puck grinned his approval as she slid back into their greasy booth.

"You okay?" He asked, much amused.

"Yeah. I was more afraid of you charging up to rescue me as part of your lame experiment."

"Nah." He flicked his hand at her. "You can handle yourself. I've seen you beat up monsters - that guy was a piece of cake."

For some reason, his reply made Sabrina feel warm and fuzzy, even more than if he'd come to her defence. For the rest of the meal, no one bothered them, not even their server. By the time they were ready to leave and still no one had offered them the check, they estimated the price of the meal, bickering over who would pay (Puck said it was his "Going To Jail treat" to her; Sabrina accused him of trying to turn it into a date). In the end, they each tossed a ten on the table. Sabrina added an extra five "toward harassment insurance for the poor server who had to see clientele like that man on a daily basis", even as Puck sneered that it'd cost less to train the staff to wipe the floor with them like Sabrina had.

"And it'd get rid off the filth, too," he noted with mock consideration, eyes glinting dangerously. "Both the humans and the premises."

* * *

When they finally arrived at the main administrative building of Hywell College, it was late in the afternoon. Their first stop was the Bursar's office. While Sabrina was settling some bills, Puck stared in disgust at the bronze and silver plaques on the wall illustrating Hywell's history, while casually eavesdropping.

"Why do you need a loan?" He asked conversationally as Sabrina visited with the Registrar next.

"Because College is expensive and even with a job, it's way more than I can afford up front."

" _I'm_ loaded," Puck smugly informed her. "For my significant other, I could dip into the Royal Treasury. I'd write it up in my taxes as a one-time gift for my wife. _If_ kings paid taxes, I mean. Usually, we just collect them. Sometimes on pain of death. Fastest get-rich scheme ever." He gave an exaggerated sigh. "Pity we're _Just Friends_ , though."

"Thanks, but no thanks," Sabrina said. "I'm happy to work through College just like everyone else."

"And can I help you find your classes, young man?" the Registrar turned to Puck.

"Eeew," Puck recoiled. "I'm not here for _that_! I'm just here with Grimm."

The Registrar's eyebrows shot into her hairline as she looked judgingly at Puck. Sabrina put on her innocent face and gestured in his direction.

"Third cousin," she informed her in a bored tone. "Came to help me settle in." _Half-true_.

The woman looked down her nose at him, clearly disbelieving, but said nothing.

" _Cousin_?" Puck hissed at her the minute the woman was out of earshot. "We're not even the same _species_!"

"They have strict rules in this College about cohabiting." Sabrina said, stifling a snort. "Good luck trying to enforce it, though."

"So no cohabiting. What about sleazy one-night stands, then? They have strict rules about those, too?"

"Don't even go there," Sabrina warned him.

"Why? I think those are great rules. I totally approve."

"Since when do you have morals?"

"I have _extremely_ high morals. Especially when they concern you and your virtue. Rubbed off from my bodyguard days, you know. Years ago, Henry explained to me about boys and men. They -"

Sabrina shuddered and quickly put her hand over his mouth. "Stop. I don't want to hear what my dad said to you. Just . . . don't."

He smirked triumphantly in response.

* * *

By the time they got to Sabrina's dorm, it was close to dinner time. They took as much from the trunk of the car as they could carry and lumbered toward her room on the second floor, with Puck complaining the whole way about royalty doing work meant for slaves.

"Well, here it is," Sabrina said, dropping her duffle bags and looking at Puck, who was hidden behind a stack of boxes in his arms. "Home for the next year, at least."

"I hope the bars in the windows don't block the view too much," was his muffled - and sarcastic - reply.

Sabrina shook her head and turned the key in the door.

And gasped.

"What?" Puck asked, peering around the boxes. "Is it overrun with rats and roaches and other adorable pets?"

"There's. No. Furniture." Sabrina robotically intoned.

Puck cackled. "Whaddya expect, Stinky, for Alcatraz?"

Sabrina glared at him. "Shut up! This is supposed to be fully furnished! The brochure said so! All I brought are sheets and a shower curtain!"

Puck pushed his way in ahead of her and dropped the boxes on the floor of the small living room. Two doors opened out from either side, leading into smaller rooms; bedrooms, ostensibly - when they had beds in them. He whistled, and opened his mouth to make a snarky comment when he caught Sabrina's eye.

"I'll go bring up the rest of the stuff," he wisely decided, and left.

Sabrina ran her hands through her hair as she looked around the small apartment. She could do this, she told herself - after all, she'd lived in much worse conditions with Daphne in their multiple sadistic foster families. She could go shopping, maybe find an IKEA, slowly add things over the next few months to make it feel less like a cell and more like a home. In the meantime, she -

"Sabrina?"

She turned at the sound of the new voice.

" _Jason_?"

Her on-again-off-again-prom-date smiled at her from the doorway. "Hey."

"What are you doing here?" She asked, stunned.

"Registered. Just like you."

"What? Why?"

Jason cocked an eyebrow, not sure whether to be amused or offended. "They wrote to me and offered me a scholarship, and I figured, why not? I'd never heard of Hywell till now, so I read up about it, and I was intrigued. I mean, check out their courses! And then, I heard _you_ were going here. It was like a sign. So . . . yeah. Here's the amazing thing - they said I could try it out for a semester, and if I didn't think it was a good fit, I could just transfer out. Apparently, it's this new program they have to get more diversity into their classrooms, or something. They must have a very different intake from other schools, though, if they think _I_ count as diversity! Anyway, they're affiliated with a whole list of other pretty decent colleges I could transfer to mid-year, no questions asked. So I accepted - just a few days ago, in fact. It was just too good to pass up."

"A. . . sign?" Sabrina felt weak. She hoped Puck wouldn't turn up anytime soon. This was bad. No, this was _beyond_ bad.

"Yes," Jason gazed steadily at her, his blue eyes serious. "I couldn't forget you, Sabrina. When you said it wasn't a good time for . . . us, because we were going away to college, I accepted that. But then the letter came, and it was like Bam! Maybe . . . a second chance. Maybe Fate was trying to say something."

 _I want to give Fate a swift punch in the mouth_ , Sabrina thought.

"So anyway, I'm on the fifth floor - that's the guys' level - and was on my way down by the stairs when I heard your voice. And I thought, 'what are the odds?' But here you are."

He smiled again at her, and Sabrina made herself smile back, even though her insides were sagging with the weight of all the implications. But maybe - perhaps - what if - some of those _weren't_ all the catastrophes she was imagining? _Jason_ \- here for the school year, a friend from home that she genuinely liked, someone she could be a broker for, to hand-hold across the treacherous rift between normal and BlowYourFreakingMind. Someone else to introduce to her world, to become another arrow in her very sparse quiver of Friends Who _Knew_.

Of course, there was the small matter of his romantic intentions, but that was . . . a small matter, Sabrina decided dismissively. She'd handled it before; she could do it again.

"Well," he stepped into the room at last, "are you hungry? Someone recommended the sandwich place on Knightsbridge. Wanna grab a bite?"

Sabrina had just opened her mouth to answer when another voice came sailing into the room, accompanied by its grumbling owner. "What on earth did you load in here, Grimm? Feels like all the anvils of the world. It'd better not be books. If I get hives, I'll -"

Puck stopped short at the sight of the other boy in the room. He lowered the new boxes to the floor and blinked at Jason, then at Sabrina.

"Making friends already, Grimm?" His voice was tight.

"Oh, hey, Puck, this is Jason. He's from my high school. He's registered here, too." She introduced Jason, feeling somewhat lightheaded and wondering if she'd somehow been dumped into a cheesy young-adult novella, the kind built entirely on plotless love triangles from hell.

"Jase," She turned to her friend, refusing to meet Puck's eyes, "this is Puck. He came to help me settle in. He's uh. . . we're uh . . ."

 _Just Friends_ , her mind helpfully prompted.

" . . . my grandmother adopted him when we were eleven."

Jason blinked back, the initial wariness on his face relaxing as he worked it out, just as Emily had. "So . . . you're her adopted. . . brother. . . of sorts." He grinned, and extended a hand.

"Of sorts," Puck agreed, grabbing Jason's hand a little too firmly. "It's complicated."

"Good to meet you, Puck," Jason continued. "I was just asking Sabrina if she wanted to grab a bite. I heard of a good sandwich place nearby. Do you want to come?"

Puck's eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly, and Sabrina braced herself for the worst. Then a lightbulb seemed to go off in his head and he shrugged. "Nah. You two go ahead. I've got a few things to take care of."

He turned to Sabrina, whose eyes had widened in disbelief. "I'll finish unloading," he told her, his tone nonchalant, bearing no trace of his earlier defensiveness. "I'll find my own dinner."

She nodded, still dumb, and wondered at how, of all the things she was feeling, disappointment was right at the top of the list.

* * *

Puck marched down the staircase with his fists clenched.

He remembered Jason. He'd never met the loser, but he'd heard Emily and Jen mention him. It hadn't been eavesdropping, technically, not if his superior Fae hearing easily picked up conversations usually accessible only with the most sophisticated surveillance junk. This _Jason_ had gone to Sabrina's high school, had taken Sabrina to the prom, had wanted to be more than just friends. But - and Puck remembered smirking when he'd heard it - Sabrina had turned him down. End of story.

Not that there'd even _been_ a story; from the sound of it, Puck thought with deep satisfaction, Sabrina was. Not. Interested.

And now, this buffoon of a mortal had turned up in his neck of the woods - this school overflowing with immortal _legends_ \- making a _pathetic_ attempt to muscle in on his future queen. No, not muscle. More like _weak-armed begged_ Sabrina to sit at the same table as him while he ate swill and (hopefully) got indigestion, or - if karma were really on Puck's side - food poisoning. He narrowed his eyes - if he hadn't been so confident in Fate's serendipitous timing, he'd have gutted the addlebrain right there and then. Or let Sabrina do it. _She_ certainly could, and it would've been doubly fun to watch.

But he was the _Trickster King_. So what if he'd been in semi-retirement for the last few years while he arm-wrestled lowlifes for land and invented fancy laws and generally made Everafter history by being the handsomest and awesomest monarch ever to grace the throne of Faerie? He _totally_ had more than a few tricks up his sleeve. _Nobody_ challenged the King and got away with it.

Still, it had taken quite a bit of effort to school his features into indifference as he'd told them to enjoy their date, as if he were some benevolent fairy (he snorted) godmother, sending them off to a ball with her blessing. He remembered the way Sabrina had looked - everything from incredulity to relief to acute discomfort to disappointment (hah! Take that, you emasculated piece of human trash!) and felt slightly placated.

He grinned, dug his pan pipe out of his jeans pocket and blew a few short notes on it.

"You'd better not be double-crossing me, Fate," he muttered as his pixies arrived and received their instructions. Disappointment, indeed! While that _ass_ was busy fumbling over food and clumsy pick-up lines, _he,_ the infallible Trickster King, was going to knock Sabrina's socks off - _and_ teach her a thing or two about disappointment.

* * *

It was only when Sabrina and Jason exchanged goodbyes in the stairwell of the second floor that she remembered she had a furniture crisis.

Tomorrow, she promised herself, first thing tomorrow, she'd march down to the Registrar and have them reassign her a different, _fully-furnished_ dorm room. She cursed quietly as she walked to her door and dug the key out of her bag, imagining how stiff she'd be in the morning after a night on the floor. At least she'd have Puck's company, she told herself, cheering up considerably at the thought. They could pretend they were back during the war, roughing it out on the hard, rocky ground of base camp. It was funny how, with enough years between them, the trauma of past events faded enough so that they seemed almost pleasant memories in the present.

Poor Jason, Sabrina mused. Wonderful, kind, smart, handsome, _mortal_ Jason. He would never know what she'd been through, could never be a part of her past that had so powerfully shaped her and left an indelible mark on her soul. At dinner, she'd warmed to him, enjoying his wit, his humor, the safe familiarness of his friendship, so far from home. But she'd also been thinking of Puck the whole time, wondering about the things he said he'd had to take care of, puzzling over his almost dispassionate reaction to Jason's invitation to dinner.

But who knew what went on in that brain of his? Sabrina dismissed her thoughts as she opened the door.

Once more, she gasped.

She blinked and rubbed her eyes.

She walked through the box-strewn living room and through the open door of one of the side bedrooms.

Inside it stood a trampoline.

Rectangular, rather like the kind she'd seen in gymnasiums, but smaller, it was set up against one wall like a bed. On it was a single sheet of paper. She pressed her hand down on the mat, just to see if it were real, and it moved, causing the paper to flutter on its surface as it rebounded. She grabbed the sheet and read the flowing script on it.

 _Sweet dreams, my queen. My minions will bring the rest of the furniture in the morning. P._

Her jaw dropped. She pushed herself up on the frame of the trampoline and landed with a bounce, the springs coming to life with a soft and well-oiled _shing_. Lying on her back, with her hands behind her head, she let the mat come to rest as she stared at the ceiling lamp, a smile slowly splitting her face.

 _Okay, I'm impressed,_ she grudgingly admitted. _But I'm not going to give you the satisfaction of -_

She sat up suddenly.

Where _was_ Puck? Wasn't he going to spend the night here? _Surely_ he wasn't taking Hywell's cohabitation policy seriously?

She looked around the bedroom, peered out through the door, even jumped off the trampoline to examine the living room and try the door of the second bedroom (locked; she imagined it was being reserved for her future roommate), but there was no sign of him hiding, waiting to jump out at her, no second note to say when he'd be back. The only thing of his she found was his hoodie, carelessly tossed onto a stack of boxes.

A deep, aching disappointment came over her. She let it cripple her for a few short seconds before she pulled herself together.

"Come on, Sabrina," she told herself sternly. "What's wrong with you? This is _Puck_. You can survive one night without him. You can survive _every night_ without him. Not that long ago, you'd _throw a party_ whenever he was out of your hair. Get your act together, idiot."

Newly resolved, she turned her attention to the boxes, extracting bathroom supplies and the spartan bedlinen she'd packed. This was home now, and even though it'd be a while before it felt that way, she was going to spend the next hour or two making it look like it.

* * *

After a shower, she lay on the trampoline in camisole and shorts, her head on her pillow, a sheet under her body, letting the immensity of her situation wash over her. She was _here_ \- standing on the welcome mat at the door to _becoming_. In a few days, that door would open and she'd bolt through it to a world filled with strangers who were friends in the making, living synapses connected in a network of experiences rich and full. There'd be no walls, no wars; just a clean, clear landscape upon which to crystallize dreams, possibilities, hope.

She looked up at the plaster ceiling and imagined the stars of Faerie in a magical room charting time and space as they cast ancient light over a brand new life. She could almost _see_ them.

Just as she could almost hear the sound of Puck's breathing in _this_ room.

She gritted her teeth and rolled over, violently shutting off her brain.

* * *

Twenty minutes later, she remembered what his arm had felt like, wrapped around her as she'd unloaded her day on him. How far they'd come from the angry, defensive children who'd circled each other's tender places with sheathed claws and barbed words.

 _No!_

And the way she could feel his presence beside her - even when they weren't touching - simply by the way the air in the room was different, fuller, prickly with comfortable and unspoken things.

 _Grrrrr._

* * *

And the way he smelled - sunshine and skin and something musky and bright - that at once soothed and called to the hidden layers deep within her: _awake_.

 _Cut it out!_

She turned her head and saw, through her open doorway, his hoodie, still on the stack of boxes.

She clenched her fists. _. . I. Will. Not._

* * *

 _Absolutely out of the question!_

 _Nope nope nope not a chance nope nope nope._

* * *

At ten minutes to midnight, she groaned and hissed as she leapt off the trampoline.

Seconds later, she vaulted back on, his hoodie over her camisole, cocooned in his scent, his victory mocking her with each brush of the fabric against her skin.

Defeated, she threw her head back onto the mat and whispered his name . . . followed by something extremely rude.

* * *

Outside her window, pointed ears caught every word, and a fist punched the air in triumph, just before a winged shadow took off into the night.

* * *

 **A/N: You guys spoil me. Thank you, thank you for all those wonderful reviews - and not just the ones saying you liked that last chapter. I love hearing how it felt to you reading it, especially the parts that missed something, or skewed funny; these are invaluable to me. Writing is wonderful, but writing for an audience that talks back is even better.**

 **Responding to the reviews I couldn't get to via PM:**

 **Guest (6/3/2016): Thank you!**

 **Sophia: You are too funny! It's delicious fun writing about those two talking about their future - so fantastical to us but so real and serious to them.**

 **Arabella Quinn: Hope you liked this next one! Resolution: +2, Tension: -50; overall= Frustration: -48.**

 **Guest (6/6/2016): Our thoughts must have crossed, because Sabrina called Puck out on that very same scenario! I swear - I wrote it before your review!**

 **Two other things:**

 **One: Silly confession - I wrote Nineteen as a comedy. Really. I'd gotten stuck in War Horse - those of you who'd read it might remember me whining about this - and decided to procrastinate by writing an entirely new 9-chapter fic. Idiotically unfocused, I know. But War Horse was so morose and so _serious_ , and I desperately needed something weightless to pick myself up with. Hence, Nineteen.**

 **Then, somewhere along the way, it became a bit bittersweet. And I thought, "Well, phooey. I can't even write a decent comedy to save my life. I'll just post the darned thing anyway and maybe people won't notice." Then I started to get reviews saying "Oh, it's soooo sad!" And I was all, "Wait, what? _Sad_? Uh. . ."**

 **Anyway, let it be known that this was meant to be a comedy. But it's okay if it turned out different. After all, I started out writing Sixteen as a comedy too, and look what happened - Bam! Essay on motherhood. One should just accept that writing sometimes runs away with one, and enjoy the ride, huh?**

 **Two: Love triangles vs. triangulation. I've heard people wax violent on love triangles. I confess that I have, too. I do not like love triangles, and I will, on principle, not write them in my stories. However, I _will_ write triangulation between characters. The difference is that love triangles involve two suitors who, in theory, stand an equal chance of ending up with the foolish object of their affection, while triangulation simply involves three characters who are emotionally entangled, sometimes romantically. The latter is much more realistic and there can be just as much good tension, while sparing us the hair-tearing Let Us Take Sides And Shoot Cannonballs At The Other Ship. That was a very convoluted way to say: please don't hate Jason. He is a sweetheart, just like Bradley was in the original story, and just as worthy of our protection and sympathy. **


	7. Chapter Seven: Operation Stupid Day 2

Puck did not turn up for breakfast. Or lunch.

As she stood in line for the Registrar - again - Sabrina surmised that he was probably sulking somewhere, like the infant that he was. This, she knew, was really a lie - he hadn't been a child for a long time, _and_ he'd just one-upped her with that underhanded, deviously well-devised, unfair _scheme_.

A trampoline!

Honestly!

And staying away _all night_ , because he knew how it'd made her think of him!

Oh, he _really_ knew how to play dirty. But she wasn't going to yield. No, Sabrina Grimm had successfully stayed on this side of swooning for years; she could keep going for decades more. Centuries, even.

"Hi, um . . . I'd like to request a refund, please," she told the woman at the counter when it was her turn. "I signed up for a Fully-Furnished room but I got an Unfurnished."

The woman raised an eyebrow - her sole reaction - as if she were used to students complaining about similar issues on a regular basis and knew exactly how pointless it was. She typed something into her computer, frowned, and peered over half-moon glasses at Sabrina.

"Huh. Well, it looks like we made a mistake," she admitted resentfully. "You _are_ registered for Furnished, and it looks like we'd put you down in the Andersen Wing, but somehow you got assigned to the Shakespeare Wing, which is all Unfurnished. You don't want to move, then? We can move you back to Andersen."

Sabrina replied politely that she was happy to stay in Shakespeare, as she was expecting a furniture delivery, and would like the refund instead.

The woman's face puckered like she'd sucked on a lemon and, in a condescending tone, informed Sabrina that they "don't do refunds, only roll over the credit to next month's rent, but as Sabrina was signed up for the higher Furnished Rate, she'd be continuing to pay that, which they couldn't amend at this point, although there'd be a pro-rata adjustment over the first year of that higher rate, combined with the rolled-over credit, to be used to offset the second year's rent, meaning that the first year would still be more expensive overall than the Unfurnished Rate had she decided to move to Andersen, but it was only temporary and would be evened out by the end of the second year, anyway, and the Bursar would be happy to help with bursaries or other assistance schemes if finance was an issue."

Sabrina blinked.

"Um," she started again, "I'm not sure I got all that, but couldn't you just issue me a refund, and let me stay on in Shakespeare?"

The woman opened her mouth and prepared to recite her entire speech again, when Sabrina heard another voice over her shoulder.

"I knew Shakespeare personally and I can vouch that he'd roll laboriously over in his grave if he knew his name was being dragged through the dirt by such bureaucratic drivel. Give her the money, peasant, for it was hard-earned, unlike the gold in _your_ purse, which was no doubt come by through trickery or theft, if the manner of your industry this morning is any indication. Otherwise, I will have my minions descend upon you and your kin with such zeal and perpetuity that you will never dare set foot out of doors ever again for the remainder of your short, miserable lives."

A painful silence followed this remarkable pronouncement as everyone in line behind Sabrina stopped breathing and the woman before her dropped her jaw. Sabrina closed her eyes and waited, not turning to look at the speaker.

"Your Majesty!" The woman squeaked at last in petrified contrition. "I didn't know. . . I am sorry. . . at once, Highness." She bustled about the counter, flipping through papers, fingernails clicking in panic on the keyboard, even as other staff behind her whispered frantically to each other in sudden recognition.

"It's the King of Faerie!" They gossiped, not bothering with discretion. "What's he doing here? How did we not know he was on campus?"

 _Because he was carrying boxes to my dorm room like a common laborer_ , Sabrina thought, pinching the bridge of her nose. She finally turned around to face him.

"Good day to you, my lady!" Puck smiled winningly, sending waves of warmth and nausea into her belly. "I trust you slept well?"

"Can we stop with the fancy talk?" She returned with an embarrassed air that bordered on resentful. "And really, was all that threatening necessary? I had it covered."

"Sure you did. I _hate_ red tape. I would've arm-wrestled her for your rent, but I didn't think she had any land worth my effort, so I went with the minions threat. Works every time."

"Miss Grimm?" The terrified woman's voice returned Sabrina to the task at hand. "We've made the necessary changes, and you should receive the credit into your bank -"

"Cash." Puck barked.

"Oh. . . yes. . . of course." Within seconds, a wad of notes was handed over the counter like a bank heist in action. Sabrina took it with an embarrassed "thanks", grabbed Puck's arm and steered him out of the office as quickly as she could.

"You're rich again!" He crowed once they were out in the sunshine. "See how easy it is to make money when you're with me?"

"I don't know whether to thank you or box your head in," Sabrina returned. "I mean, now it'll be all over campus that you came and did that Damsel in Distress thing to me. So much for blending in."

"Oh, I'm sorry - did you think this was the _normal_ club?" Puck feigned surprise and launched into a showman's patter. "You forget, Grimm, that this here is an _Everafter_ joint, where almost everyone is Somebody, or related to Somebody. Here, normal is the new weird and blending in is sooooo last season! So, chill. It'd have gotten out eventually that you and I are like this." He brought two fingers of his hand together, just as Emily had, and grinned wickedly at her.

Sabrina sighed, beginning to walk toward her next appointment. "I shoulda known better than to think I'd actually make it to the first day of school without something blowing my cover." Then she bumped her shoulder into his. "Thanks for the bed, by the way. Sure beats having to sleep on the floor."

His smile was lazy and gloating. "And did it make you think of me?"

She huffed, fighting the blush in her cheeks. _If he only knew_. "A little."

His smile widened, as if he knew something she didn't, but he didn't elaborate. Instead, he asked, "So, whaddya doing the rest of the day?"

She ran over the list in her head, then suddenly stopped in her tracks. "Oh - the Dean's Tea!"

"The whose what?"

"All the new students are invited to attend the Dean's Tea. It's like an . . . open house, to meet the new teachers, and each other. . . and some of the seniors will be there, too, to answer questions, if we have any. They said we could bring friends and family, too - Hywell is such an unusual school that the more our families understand what it's about, the better the adjustment, supposedly. Wanna come?"

He looked at her, assessing. "Sandwich Boy gonna be there?"

She rolled her eyes. "Yes, _Jason_ will be there. He -"

"Then I'm good," Puck told her with a careless wave. "Don't wanna be a third wheel; it's so freaking awkward. I'll see to the rest of your furniture, instead - sorry it didn't come earlier, by the way. The pixies are having a bit of trouble trying to get it all through the window. We can't possibly fly it through the hallway where everyone can see us."

"Oh," Sabrina exhaled, feeling once again let down. "Okay. Well, I guess I'll see you around, then."

"Whenever!" He called out, as he walked away.

* * *

Just after dinner, Sabrina got dressed for the Dean's Tea. It was funny how it was called that, even though it was held at twilight and promised more after-dinner drinks than the stimulant beverages of the late afternoon. She wished Daphne were there - Daphne would've loved to attend a function like that, would've loved dressing up and doing Sabrina's hair and flitting from guest to guest, mingling and making friends. Sabrina would've much preferred heading to a sparring room somewhere to process her day by slamming her fist into a punching bag, or wrestling with a dummy, or throwing knives, or something equally physical.

She pulled on her dress - a knee-length black shift - and slipped into her pumps as she grabbed a string of faux pearls off the tiny side table. It was the only new item of furniture in her dorm room - apparently the only piece the pixies could fit through the window so far. No doubt they were sitting in some glade somewhere, dismantling perfectly good chairs and sofas into tiny bits under Puck's orders. She wondered if she should reward them for their work.

 _How much does one tip a pixie?_ She smiled at the weirdness of her world.

There was a knock on the door and she opened it to find Jason standing outside, his eyes shining. She joined him and shut the door behind her, not feeling inclined to invite him in so he might see the trampoline and ask awkward questions. He murmured a compliment about her appearance, and she returned it.

"This is off to a good start," he said after a protracted silence.

"What is? School?"

"Yeah. And _this_. Us."

She took a deep breath. "Jase," she looked at him, "let's just be in the moment, okay?"

He nodded, his manner still easy, optimistic. He asked her about her furniture situation; she told him Puck was taking care of it. Her face reddened at his name and she bit her lip but if Jason noticed, he didn't mention it.

"I'm glad he's here to help you settle in," Jason remarked, "although he had to miss the Tea. Can't say I'm complaining, though, because I get to take you instead. But . . . I don't get this adopted grandson thing - so is he like your step-cousin or brother or what?"

"I've stopped trying to work that out," Sabina shook her head. "Pick what you like. I told the Registrar he was my third cousin because he hadn't registered for any classes and she was getting the wrong idea about why he was here with me."

Jason chuckled. "To be honest, I did, too. Initially, I thought there was something about you two that. . . anyway, I figured that you didn't mention him at all while we were in New York, so . . . well, let's just say I'm really glad he's family."

They'd arrived at their destination, and Sabrina was relieved she didn't have to lie herself out of the corner she'd suddenly found herself painted into. They strode into the massive old hall hung with banners and colorless pictures of the College in various stages of construction. Here and there were faded photographs of the many graduating classes that had passed through its doors over the years.

For the first half hour, the professors took turns introducing themselves and answered questions. It was all very dull and if Sabrina had been expecting eye-opening revelations of circus sideshow proportions, she'd have been sorely disappointed. As it was, the faculty steered away from anything specific, marketing the Hywell Experience instead as something along the lines of philosophical cultural immersion that was too vague to comprehend, let alone find suspicious. She deduced that the faculty were waiting for classes to be in full swing before springing any surprises.

After the pleasantries were over, the mingling began. Jason found some dorm mates hanging around the food table and introduced them to Sabrina. As she visited with them, she discovered that they were just as mortal as he, and were also there by invitation to enrich the diversity profile of the cohort, as he'd said. It was all very well to meet new guys, Sabrina felt, but she hoped she might also chance upon some girls who were similarly enticed to the school - maybe some who lived on her floor, even. Heaven knew she needed more friends than just Jason - if things continued at this rate, she'd be hanging out solely with him, inadvertently sending all the wrong signals and steering them both into a friendship wasteland of epic proportions.

There was a big space to the side of the hall which was left empty, but as the evening wore on, musicians took their places under the large windows along one wall and filled the air with quiet melodies. It was a dance floor, Sabrina realized - out of place in a typical university but quite in character for a college like Hywell, especially for the residents who knew its true history and what it stood for. How many would soon catch on, she mused, and how soon? She wanted to be a part of that, to help them see that it wasn't a nightmare, that it could be good.

"Shall we?" Jason materialized beside her, offering his arm.

"Just like prom," she replied. "But without the drunk kids falling over themselves."

"And throwing up in the toilet, and each other," he agreed, and they danced.

It had hit her, the first time they'd danced at senior prom back in the city, that he was not Puck. How he didn't dance like Puck, didn't laugh like Puck, didn't tease her like Puck, didn't make her relax and just be herself the way she was with Puck, snoring and wiping snot off her face as she cried about something that had torn her apart. She'd known it then - that every boy she'd ever meet was going to be stood against him like a police lineup, and that each time, without fail, she'd point to Puck: _that's the one._

"Are you sure?" Fate, the overseeing police sergeant, would challenge her easy conviction. "Take your time."

"Yes," she'd say. "I'm sure."

How it had wrecked her - the realization that she couldn't get away from him, no matter how many other boys she'd dated. No one else truly knew her, or truly let her know them back. She was furious, felt cheated that she'd come to this conclusion so early in her long immortal life, while all her other friends - the ones who'd live less than even a century - would nonetheless spend a good portion of those years in openminded bliss, enjoying the journey to finding out whom they'd get to spend the rest of their lives with.

Even _Puck_ got to sail along for four thousand years before the iron fist of destiny got a good one in his face; _she,_ on the other hand - at _eleven_ \- already _knew_.

 _You are a pain in the stinking rear_ , she'd told Fate too many times to number.

And so she'd determined to hold off this - their supposed destiny - as long as she could, to prove that, if not _whom_ , she might at least have a say in _when_.

Now here she was, in the arms of a boy in her imaginary lineup, his heart beating against hers as they moved across the floor, and all she could think of was the one she'd picked over the all the other usual suspects.

 _I am indeed trapped in a flaky novel from the seventh level of Hades,_ she thought dejectedly. _And if I care for Jason at all, I need to tell him . . . again. Whether or not I win this horrible, perverted game that Puck's got going._

She glanced up at him - he looked so happy, his eyes bright with the excitement of the chase, the naive anticipation of winning.

"Jase," she began, her voice turning his face to hers - and his phone beeped.

He relaxed his hold on her, and retrieved the device, apologizing.

"I have to go," he stuttered in surprise after he'd read the message. "My _parents_ are here. I thought they weren't coming. They weren't totally on board with me choosing Hywell over some of the other schools, so it wasn't the world's happiest sendoff when I left." He sighed. "I should go meet them, Sabrina. I'd like to have you along, too, but I think . . . I should probably do this myself."

Sabrina nodded. She'd met Jason's parents before, and liked them, but this sounded like a time for family only. "I'll be fine."

He promised to come back if he could, and then Sabrina was alone.

And she heaved a sigh of relief.

"Why can't everyone be just friends?" She muttered to herself. Emotions and romantic entanglements almost always messed things up, turned the beautiful and pure into something painful and twisted.

"Because it doesn't work," another voice replied just behind her, and Sabrina froze.

"I thought you weren't coming," she whispered, knowing he could hear her just as well as if she'd shouted it.

"The pixies wrapped up early, so thought I'd stop by as my reward. Besides, I've never met a party I didn't wanna crash."

She turned at last, and her breath died in her throat.

Puck was _gorgeous_.

She'd been so used to seeing him in jeans and a T-shirt or hoodie, typically somewhat unkempt from physical activity or general carelessness. But there he stood, perfectly groomed in a well-cut suit, his hair styled so that barely the tips of his ears were visible. Everything from the lithe grace in his carriage to the half-smile that made danger dance in his eyes radiated authority and arrogance. If, in their usual casual interactions, Sabrina had forgotten that he was royalty, she was chillingly reminded of it now; he was every inch the charismatic King of Faerie, and he was a glorious sight.

"Just so you know," he winked at her, "I'll look even better at our wedding."

(And just as hopelessly full of himself as when he was a ragamuffin child with a repulsive affinity for stupid comebacks.)

"Wedding? We're _nineteen_!" Sabrina bleated, when she'd finally scooped her jaw off the floor and back into its socket.

"Speak for yourself. And anyway, it's just numbers," he tossed out airily. "I've said it before - I can wait." Then he held out his hand. "I think we're supposed to dance."

Instantly, Sabrina was transported back to Seven's and Morgan's wedding during the war, when they'd been twelve and he'd said those same words and literally swept her off her feet. By the end of the evening, she remembered with dismay, she'd wanted to _kiss_ him.

Oho! So _that_ was his game. _Well, bring it, cheater._

"You must be out of ammo if you're using the old dancing trick," she told him in a feeble attempt to gain the upper hand.

"On the contrary," he laughed, a rumble in his chest as he drew her to within inches of himself, "dancing _never_ gets old, unless you're a klutz."

Then he swept her away, expertly and effortlessly gliding over the floor, maneuvering them between the other people bopping and swaying in time to the music, smiling at how she at first tried to keep up before relaxing in his arms and letting him simply lead. He exhaled audibly at the feel of her, the way she moved with him, how she'd changed from a fiery girl into _this_ , this beautiful spirit who had become so much to him.

From the way she leaned into him, sighing, he knew she felt it, too, and it was at the tip of his tongue to call her out on it and say, "That there is a class-A swoon, if ever I saw one," but he thought the better of it. Instead, he cleared his throat and remarked, "What a shame modern boys don't know how to dance. It's sad, actually, all their leering and vulgar posturing, when _this_ is the easiest way to get a girl in your arms."

"And you would know . . . how?" Sabrina shot back, although with less vigor, as she was distracted and dreamy.

"Obviously, this isn't the first time I've danced with you, is it? Or anyone else, for that matter."

Sabrina suddenly felt her senses return to her. She'd never thought about the sort of romantic interactions Puck might've had when he was a prince of Faerie, before he was exiled, before they'd met. Now that she did, she could imagine him learning to dance with different partners, then performing flawlessly in Faerie balls, entertaining the daughters of visiting dignitaries. And there was Moth, too, who was enough of a fixture in his life that his parents had seen fit to have them betrothed.

"Why not them?" She heard herself ask.

"Who?"

"The other girls . . . fairies . . . you danced with. You must have danced with hundreds in your lifetime. Humans, too, surely. And Moth. Why not them? Why me?"

He was silent for several turns around the room, his eyes unfocussed, and Sabrina counted 1-2-3-1-2-3-1-2-3 in her mind for what seemed like forever before he answered.

"I don't know. None of them was any good. I suppose I must've just been waiting for someone with a backbone. And then you turned up."

"I guess you'll say it was Fate, then."

His eyes darted suddenly to hers, and he frowned. "You still don't get Fate, do you?"

"What's there to get?" Sabrina snorted skeptically, spinning out and back into Puck's arms once more; the thought briefly crossed her mind that it was a good place to be. "It's like my life's already lived for me - all I get to do now is watch."

"You're wrong." Puck shook his head, his feet not missing a beat. "You're thinking that destiny - Fate - is all paths converging to one, all the wrong doors closing, stuff like that. But that's just narrow. It's more like . . . a lot of roads opening up to choose from that _wouldn't_ have been there if it _not_ for Fate putting them there. It's . . ." He squinted as he tried to find the words, ". . . _could_ , not _would_."

"Choices." Sabrina rolled her eyes. "Like Briar. And my grandfather. Fated to die at the hands - or claws - of some mythological beast. Unavoidable."

"They chose to save people they loved, Sabrina. And those are the sad stories. There are plenty of happy ever afters that Fate played a part in and people still got to pick what happened. Yes, _pick_ , much as you find that hard to believe. Maybe it wouldn't feel like that at the time but years down the road, we'll look back and see how it all fell into place and realize that there couldn't have been anyway else."

He looked down at her and held her gaze. "Or anyone else."

Sabrina swallowed. "You do know that we're talking centuries into the future, right? Before we can reap the benefit of hindsight?"

His eyes crinkled, and Sabrina cursed herself for thinking that he looked even more roguishly attractive than before, if it were even possible. "For _you_ , maybe. How highly-strung are the _nouveau immortel_! I've already lived long enough to enjoy the benefits of hindsight many times over. I know for a fact that _none_ of those girls were ones that got away, as they say. You're different. But - ah - I thought we were Just Friends? In which case, this conversation is moot."

"Oh, we are," Sabrina hastily agreed. "I just hadn't realized till now that you'd had to do this even before you grew up."

"Don't remind me," Puck shuddered.

Just then, the music changed and Puck slowed, sighing. "Ah, I haven't heard this one in forever. It's one of Mother's favorites. She used to dance with Father all the time, and she always had the musicians play this. It's a Fae tune - really, one of our nicer ones. You know, I'm beginning to think your school isn't a total washout after all, Grimm."

Before Sabrina could respond, he'd slipped his arm around her back so that her body was pulled against his. She held her breath at the sudden contact, but he didn't notice, only led her in a much slower pattern through the room. With her head tucked against his shoulder, she vaguely registered out of the corner of her eye that there were fewer people now on the dance floor, with most of the guests just standing around, watching.

"Where's Sandwich Boy?" Puck murmured, and Sabrina felt the vibrations through the cheek that was resting against his body.

"I wish you wouldn't call him that." She poked him with the hand resting on his back. " _Jason_ had to go. His parents turned up."

"Like Cinderella, but much more humiliating." Puck grinned.

Sabrina pulled back to stare at him, her mind suddenly crystallizing a thought that'd been nagging her for a while.

"You didn't somehow . . . _engineer_ this, did you? You did seem to have amazing timing, turning up just as he left."

"Engineer what - his _parents_? You think _I_ magically made them appear so I could cut in?" He cackled. "You give me too much credit. No, we have Fate to thank for that. And for your information, I was watching you. I didn't want to get in the way of you two, so I waited. I figured that eventually even Sandwich Boy would need to take a leak or something."

"Why are you letting Jason hang out with me?" Sabrina asked bluntly. "I mean, it's not helping your experiment, is it, to have a third party messing things up?"

"Ah, but he's _not_ messing _anything_ up, is he, Grimm? Because you don't actually love him, do you?" Puck's smile was wicked and cocky.

"What are you doing, Puck?" Sabrina narrowed her eyes, stopping them both in mid-step. "What are you playing at?"

"Nothing! I swear it, and you _know_ Fae don't lie. I'm simply letting Fate take us on a ride to show us that what could be, will most probably be. Or rather, show _you_. Since _I_ already know what _I_ want."

"So you're not going to fight him or anything stupid like that?"

"For _you_? Hm. Now, there's an idea. An arm-wrestling contest, with you as the prize. You're probably not worth as much as even an acre of land, but Sandwich Boy is kind of a gnat. Pity. It won't be much fun. Trolls, at least, offer _some_ competition.

"You'd fight a troll over me?" Sabrina was offended on so many levels.

"Why not? _You_ did."

Oh.

That's right - during the war, she _did_ fight some kind of hideous monster for Puck's life. She blushed at the memory, and he noticed.

"See? You love me."

She was about to level a snarky retaliation at him when the music stopped and he caught her eye, holding her still in the dim light of the room. The other couples slowly filed off the dance floor, but she gazed back, his challenge - unanswered - hanging between them.

The voice of one of the professors snapped them out of their trance, declaring the evening a success and wishing the students a wonderful school year. Taking the hint, everyone streamed out of the hall, calling out goodbyes and Sabrina soon found herself out in the moonlight, the brisk air of late summer deliciously cool on her flushed skin. Her hand was in Puck's - he must've taken it to lead her out - and he continued to hold it as they walked toward the Shakespeare Wing. He seemed lost in thought, staring out into the night in silence. Sabrina suddenly remembered Jason, and wondered if he was okay; she didn't remember seeing him return to the Tea.

But Puck had - standing to the side next to two older adults whom he'd assumed were Jason's parents, watching them dance.

"Isn't that Sabrina?" his mother had asked. "I thought you were together. Who's that she's dancing with?"

"Her adopted brother," had been Jason's terse reply.

"Doesn't look like he's her brother," his father had disagreed, insinuation thickly lacing his tone.

"No, he doesn't," Jason had admitted quietly.

The older man had clapped his shoulder and said, "Let's go, son."

Even over the music, Puck had overheard them, and he'd initially wanted to stick his tongue out in their general direction. But by the time the family had walked out, he'd changed his mind, feeling pity instead for Jason.

 _Well, she told you once_ , he thought. _You should've listened. Not that I blame you for trying._

* * *

At her door, Puck finally released her hand. Sabrina gazed up at him, and if she thought they were quiet before, the silence between them now was deafening.

"Well." Puck said, at last.

"Do you want to come in?"

His eyebrows seesawed. "I didn't think Just Friends played this game."

Sabrina shook her head, upset with herself. "Right. No, they don't."

"Especially seeing that I've already been in and out of this place all day, getting it set up. Don't mind if I do then." He pushed the door open behind her and entered.

For the third time, Sabrina gasped.

Even though she'd been expecting it to look different, she was still flabbergasted by what she saw. The pixies had indeed brought the furniture which, while lacking the eclectic novelty of a trampoline bed, was far nicer than what she'd expected, and certainly not the flat-pack DIY IKEA variety. _And_ they'd thrown in some extras.

"A TV!" Sabrina was beside herself. "The Fully-Furnisheds didn't even come with one!"

"Duh. That's the most important part!" Puck said, tossing his dinner jacket over the back of a chair and producing a rental DVD and boxes of popcorn from the dining table. "Sweet or Salty?"

Sabrina shrieked and danced a little jig of glee.

"Salty!"

"You're in luck, because that's all I got."

"Because we _only_ ever eat salty!"

"Exactly. That way we can chug sugar-loaded pop until we're sick." He opened the fridge in a flamboyant gesture to display its well-stocked interior.

Sabrina threw herself at Puck and planted a loud kiss on his cheek.

"You missed, babe," he said disapprovingly.

"Ruining the moment, Puck; we talked about this." She reprimanded as she disentangled herself from him, slightly giddy. "I'm going to get out of this dress and then we can start the fun!"

Puck winced. "You know how that sounded, right?"

She threw one of the boxes of popcorn at him. "Go cook!" She ordered, and practically skipped to her room.

* * *

They watched the movie on her new sofa - it was an action flick with monsters in it, and a caricature of a hero who rescued a girl at the end. With raucous abandon, they hooted at the fighting scenes ("No one holds a sword like that in real life, bozo!" Puck had criticized), the cheesy reunion at the climax ("Puh-leeez! You don't have time to kiss! The building is about to fall!" Sabrina had hollered), and analyzed the special effects and creature animation (they both indulged in fond reminiscence over real monsters they'd come up against during the war). Sabrina couldn't remember the last time she'd had so much fun doing something so mindless. It brought back memories of Ferryport Landing, and binge-watching Star Trek reruns with Daphne and Puck during the summer vacations of their childhood.

Deliriously happy - although it could've been the sugar in the drinks, she later reflected - and curled up next to Puck on the plush cushions, she sighed loudly as the credits rolled.

"Time for bed," she yawned. She turned to him. "You staying?"

He returned an intense look. "I dunno."

She grinned. "You know, we _would_ be breaking about a hundred rules."

"Well, in _that_ case," his smile was as sharp as glass, and he took her hand.

Just like that, the atmosphere - light and silly and innocuous only seconds earlier - changed.

They both looked down at their fingers, casually linked together. And then back up at the other's face, breaths held, teetering at some precarious brink.

Sabrina was the first to break.

"The uh. . . trampoline is much smaller than yours."

Puck nodded. "And I'm already on the couch."

Neither moved.

"Or you could just concede defeat right now," Puck said. "You know you want to."

Sabrina exhaled in relief, feeling the tension slough off her like old skin. Thank goodness for Puck's cockiness - it'd made it easy for her to walk away this time. Which she did, sliding her fingers from his with a snort, and padding to her room.

* * *

Ten minutes later, they were both in their respective sleeping-places, listening to each other breathe in the darkness. From the couch, Puck could see into Sabrina's room through the open doorway and make out her feet, twitching slightly under her blanket.

"Thanks for the furniture," Sabrina finally spoke, her words slightly muted through the wall between them. "It's all wonderful. I might have to save up for a bit before I can pay you back."

"No need. It's a gift." Puck replied. "The pixies and I had fun making everything."

"You _made_ this? In one day?"

"Yup. From scratch. Well, the pixies did. But I micromanaged. Get it? _Pixies_? _Micro_ managed? Anyway, that's why it took us a while."

"Like _actual hardware store lumber_ From Scratch?" Her astonishment amused him, and he chuckled.

"Try _from trees_ From Scratch."

"Wow. You're not kidding?"

"Only the best for you, my love."

There was a strangled sound from behind the wall, and Puck imagined Sabrina turning red and trying in vain for a good comeback. He smirked, enjoying how easily he could render her speechless.

"When are you going to tell Sandwich Boy?" He spoke into the silence after a while.

The feet shifted. "Tell him what?"

"That he's going to get his heart broken. Shattered, actually."

The feet stilled, and Puck continued.

"You're going to be here for four years, give or take, and so will he. You'll be seeing a lot of each other, and he's going to keep hoping."

The feet disappeared, and Sabrina's head appeared in their place. Even in the dimness of the room, he could see the glint of her eyes, the spill of her hair.

"Why do you care?" Her tone was not so much defiant as curious.

"Hah! I don't. It's very amusing watching him preen around you. But _you_ should, because it's the decent thing to do."

"I did. I told him to forget me. He wouldn't listen."

Puck muffled a burst of cynical laughter. "Yeah, _you're_ an easy one to forget. Look what good _that_ did to me."

Silence stretched between them. Then, Sabrina cleared her throat.

"Tomorrow. I'll tell him. . . again."

"Good."

"Puck?"

"What?"

"Nineteen is too soon."

"Too soon for what?"

"To be what you want me to be."

"Oh, is this the part where we negotiate the dowry and prenup?"

"No! You idiot! I'm just saying. . . " He heard the springs of the trampoline give as she flopped onto her back. "I wish I'd never gone to the future and seen us. I wish I could've just met you like a normal person and fallen in love with you in the normal way and just . . ." She made a soft, frustrated sound. "I _wanted_ to fall in love with you in the normal way."

He was just about to ask her what she'd meant by 'the normal way' when he realized that she'd said. Hope rose in his chest, making it suddenly hard to breathe. He froze, not daring to look at her.

Over the thunder of his heart, he whispered, "Say it, Sabrina."

"And let you win? No."

"It's not about winning." He heard the desperation in his own voice. " _Say it_."

Turning at last, he found her staring at him, her face strained. _Just say it_ , he thought, _and I'll be off this couch in an instant and heaven knows how many more rules I'll break tonight when I show you exactly how little winning has to do with any of this._

But she only sighed and closed her eyes, blinking away as if it hurt just to look at him.

And for the first time, he was afraid that he'd been wrong to think Fate had been any more on his side than that of the mortal boy he'd pitied.

* * *

 **A/N: Stalemate! Always a fun place to be. . . not. But there's still Day #3 to go, and fingers crossed that P will pull out just the right stops. Can I just say that poking fun at red tape/bureaucracy just cracks me up? The Registrar's soliloquy must be my favorite para in this entire chapter - so utterly roll-your-eyes unbelievable. Anyway, some responses to non-PM-able reviews (I'll get to the PM-able ones soon - it's been a doozy of a week):**

 **Guest (6/9/16): Thank you! Who doesn't love Puck, right?**

 **Arabella Quinn: I'm so glad this story is a highlight of your weekends! I do try to be consistent in updating - the story's all written, so it's a matter of editing and proofreading, but sometimes life still gets in the way. But I don't like to keep my readers waiting, so I'll do my best to get each chapter out before the weekend. I hope you found a way to watch that episode of your fave show again. Sorry you had to miss part of it (but flattered to be the reason)!**


	8. Chapter Eight: Operation Stupid Day 3

The next day was Sunday, and it was the day before classes began. Sabrina woke with a start, squinting at the sunlight on her face. She felt tired, as if her sleep had been fragmented by nightmares. Somewhere in the middle of her soul, there was a dull ache.

She sat up and peered out into the living room, then jumped off the trampoline for a more thorough check.

Puck was gone.

Not that she was surprised - not after last night.

There was no note this time, and Sabrina frowned at the realization that she'd been actually looking for one, had been expecting an explanation for his absence, as if they were enough to each other that being apart warranted a reason, or a deadline. She blinked away the sudden sadness that sliced through her, and went to start her day.

* * *

She met Jason for lunch.

He seemed subdued, and she thought it might've been because of his meeting with his parents, so she asked.

He shook his head and said they were fine, that they'd actually come round and were now supportive, having had some time for everything to sink in. They'd left their hotel that morning after breakfast together.

Sabrina felt terrible simply thinking about breaking her own news when he already looked like he'd had all the air kicked out of him, so she considered waiting another day or two. But Jason, fiddling with the napkin on the table, took a deep breath and said, "I don't think we're going to work."

She froze for a second before asking why.

His face was sad and tired as he explained that he'd seen her dance with Puck the night before. He wouldn't meet her eyes.

"He's not your adopted brother, is he?" Jason finally looked at her, and she read heartbreak in every line of his face.

"Not the way you think, no. I mean, my grandmother really did adopt him as a child, but he was never. . . we were never siblings. He was always - "

"You've loved him for a long time, haven't you?" Jason interrupted her.

Sabrina bit her lip, unable to answer, didn't trust herself not to lie.

"Does he love you back?"

"Yes," she whispered and - even though she wasn't the one getting her heart crushed to smithereens - found herself in tears, "he does."

"I wasn't sure at first," Jason went on, "because he seemed okay with me taking you out to dinner and everything. But then when I saw how you looked at each other. . . you never looked at me like that, or any other guy at school."

He didn't wait for Sabrina to respond, as if he had to get everything off his chest before he came apart. "Is that why you broke up with me at the end of senior year? You said it was because we were moving away, in transition, starting college and everything. But it really was because of him, wasn't it? Why didn't you tell me the truth?"

"Because I didn't know it then," she finally found her voice. "And I still don't know. And because I didn't want to hurt you even though I didn't have . . . even though. . ."

She wanted to say that there was nothing between Puck and her, not really, but she knew it would make things worse.

The truth - especially in flimsy disguise - usually did.

* * *

They agreed to remain friends, whatever that meant. Jason thought it might work, as they both genuinely enjoyed the other's company and had never really progressed beyond even the first stages of Something More (much to his frustration). There was little to turn back _from_ , he'd rationalized, and besides, they'd be schoolmates for the next four years so they might as well make it a good experience. But only, he'd suggested - although in not so many words - after he'd had some time and distance to dull the ragged edge of loss.

Sabrina was both relieved and deeply sad when they parted ways. As she walked alone to her dorm, she thought about what Jason had said: that their friendship might be saved because they'd - she'd - never let it change in the first place. It seemed to confirm what she'd told Puck after the graduation party in Ferryport Landing - that she wanted them to stay where it was safe, where she'd be sure she could never lose him. It'd made sense then.

But now . . . she wasn't so sure now. And she wasn't sure last night, when saying no hadn't been that easy anymore.

She checked her phone for a message from Puck and, finding none, she texted him one instead.

 _Hey. Where r u?_

 _Woods. Wassup?_

 _Need groceries. Can i get a ride?_

 _B there in 5._

He sounded normal, Sabrina thought as she signed off. And, when Puck appeared soon after, back in casuals, he seemed himself too, showing no side effects of the conversation of the night before. Sabrina felt both unsettled and oddly appeased - it was familiar, how they clashed, and seared, and then it was over. During the war, growing up, managing their parents, dealing with their siblings - this was the fabric of their lives: same patterns, different colors. And at the end, she could never be sure if he'd truly made peace or if he simply didn't bother. Puck was inscrutable that way, and Sabrina had long resolved that the unknowing was as much a part as the knowing; it was who they were.

And the thought, which in the past wasn't even a blip on her radar, now made her heart sick.

They decided to take the car, because flying with shopping bags was plain dumb, not to mention a forgetful dust disaster waiting to happen. Puck was slightly offended that she still needed groceries after he'd so painstakingly stocked her fridge.

"Ice cream and pop aren't real food, Puck," Sabrina told him, and remembered not to sound patronizing.

"Only to you they're not," he grumbled, but put the car in gear and headed to the nearest supermarket anyway.

After the supermarket, they ran more errands, picking up office supplies and personal items.

"Remember when you were scared of soap?" Sabrina brandished a bar at him, grinning.

He swatted her away and snarled. "I was not scared! I was _allergic_. There's a difference. And you still used it against me, knowing it could be fatal. The Old Lady, too! Good thing it didn't leave scars."

"It must have, because you haven't smelt like rancid meat in ages."

"So you noticed!"

"Hard not to notice something like that, idiot."

And on it went, the bicker-and-banter deflecting the real questions, until they found themselves back at the dorm room, laden with shopping bags, as dusk draped the sky in shadow hues. Puck sat and watched Sabrina while she put the things away. She was quiet, well aware that this was their final day together, and that a million unfinished conversations still festered between them.

"Dinner?" Puck spoke softly, when Sabrina at last finished and turned to look at him.

"I suppose," she replied, feeling as if it was their last meal on earth, it seemed such an ominous prospect.

He went to the window, unlatched it, slid it open and held out his hand.

"What's wrong with the car?" She asked.

He smiled. "It'd be hard, where we're going. Don't worry, it's not far."

She took his hand, and they were in the air, rising up the side of the building. At the very top, he set her down on the roof. It was dark now, but the pixies were there, living fireworks that danced and lit up the night. They hovered around a table and two chairs, set in the only space devoid of antennae and satellite dishes. Sabrina saw a large flat box on the table, and two cans of something to drink.

Puck tipped his head toward the setup. "Shall we?"

They sat.

"Well," Puck said, opening the box, "let's eat."

Sabrina took a slice of pepperoni pizza and chewed. It was very good pizza, she noted in pleased surprise, and still hot, considering how long it could've been sitting up there under the cool evening breeze.

"Yes," Puck agreed when she said so. "While you were busy leading Sandwich Boy on, _I've_ been busy sampling all the restaurants within a five block radius." He showed Sabrina a collection of food photos on his phone.

"You ate all that food?" She gasped. Even for Puck, the variety was phenomenal.

" _And_ rated them." He announced with satisfaction. "Five stars gets a second visit. One star gets a trash review on my Facebook page."

"You don't have a Facebook page."

"I was being figurative. But anyway, it's amazing what a smile can do when you're a celebrity. People were falling over themselves to give me free meals."

"You _told_ people who you are?"

"Didn't have to. Someone in the Registrar's office has a big mouth."

"You're unbelievable!"

"Why, thank you! I do try."

"It wasn't a compliment!"

"Suuure. Anyway, this pizza got 5 stars."

Sabrina nodded. Then, out of the blue, she blurted out, "Jason kind of broke up with me."

Puck eyed her for a moment and then remarked, "So you got off easy. You should be celebrating."

Sabrina winced, remembering the slump of the boy's shoulders as he'd told her why.

"He thought you and I were together." Sabrina elaborated, feeling awkward.

"Well, _that_ was subtle. Didn't buy the adopted brother story, huh?"

"No. He said we . . . oh, never mind."

"Aaaaaand we have the testimony of corroborating witnesses!" Puck crowed, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms. "Is this a good time to say 'I told you so' or should I come back later?"

Sabrina glared at him.

"Sometimes I want to punch your face to the moon!" She growled.

"Take a number!" Puck laughed. "Look, he'll live. Better he figure it out now than when he gets our wedding invite in the mail and realizes you've been cheating on him all this time."

Sabrina flushed pink. "I would never cheat on someone like that!"

"Then it's a good thing you told him," Puck said, irritatingly. "Changing the subject, look -" he gestured to the empty pizza box, "-I realize we could've just ordered in, but we've never been on a date before, so this is the next best thing."

"We've never needed to go on dates to eat pizza," Sabrina interrupted in surprise. "We always just ate pizza at home. In front of the TV. In whatever hideous clothes we were already wearing."

Puck rolled his eyes. "Speak for yourself - _I_ always looked stunning. Now, correct me if I'm wrong - which I never am, by the way - but dating is part of this wretched courtship ritual that humans have, right?"

"Yes, but -"

"And we're courting, right?"

"Um, no. We're -"

"Just Friends. You've told me ad nauseam, yes. Which I'm in the midst of convincing you is crap, right?"

"Uh-huh," Sabrina narrowed her eyes guardedly.

"So this is a date."

"O-kaaaay."

"But you were expecting candlelight and flowers and a silver dome thing hiding microscopic bits of burnt meat in a huge puddle of sauce that people pay way too much money for," Puck accused. "Or else you were expecting me to cook you a meal from scratch like in those awful chick flicks, to impress you. And you were about to ask me 'why pizza?'."

"There's nothing wrong with pizza, and I _wasn't_ going to . . ." Sabrina sighed, and gave up. "Fine. I'll play along. . . why pizza, Puck?"

"Because this is me, this is _us_. _I_ don't cook meals; _I_ snap my fingers and the palace chefs do it. And _I_ don't do candlelight and flowers and pretentious food because it's what I've done _all_ my life at royal balls and feasts, and I'm sick of it. _I_ eat pizza and fried chicken and tacos and spaghetti and sushi and General Tso's shrimp and ice cream and popcorn and you eat all those things with me, and love it."

"So?"

"So, in the old days, knights and princes did these brave and daring things to win the hearts of maidens, right? Slew dragons, fought monsters, won wars, ransomed their kingdoms, that sort of thing. Grand gestures. Well, guess what? I've _done_ all of those. _Multiple times_. I've even cast off 4000 years of glorious, blissful childhood for you. I'm all out of grand gestures, Grimm."

"The trampoline and furniture were a nice touch. So was talking down that surly Registrar."

"So they worked?"

"I didn't say that."

They looked at each other.

Puck took a deep breath. "I believe we had a deal: three days to prove to you that you were wrong about Just Friends being the best we could do. This is Day Number Three. I've got just one more gesture. I need you to work with me on this one, though."

"What is it?"

"A kiss."

"Already? Don't you have to win the game before that happens?"

"No. Like I said, I've played all my cards except this one. And I'm going to gamble on it now. You let me kiss you, and then you decide what we are."

"Are you going to slip some potion into my mouth during?"

"Boy, are you paranoid! You can't _make_ people fall in love with other people!"

"Um, I seem to remember _you_ giving someone a donkey's head and making someone else besotted with him."

Puck scoffed. "It was Bottom, and Mother. And, actually, Father was the one who doled out the juice, but she's still mad at _me._ It was a prank! No sense of humor, those two. But no, I'm not going to do that to you, because . . . well, this is not a prank, believe it or not. I give you my word. It's just a kiss, Sabrina. We've done it before. Twice, in fact."

So they had. And both times it was earth-shatteringly life-changing - like a nuclear bomb, with just as much fallout.

And she'd always wanted more, even when she hadn't let herself think about it, had refused to entertain any idea that might threaten what they already had.

"You know me," Puck continued with his palms open when Sabrina said nothing, "and I daresay no one knows me like you. This -" He gestured to himself, the pixies, the empty pizza box on the table in the middle of the roof under the night sky, "-is who I _am_. Now let me show you who I could _be_."

He pushed his chair back and held her gaze. " _Could_ ," he reminded her, "not _would_."

Her eyes were wide as he rose to his feet and approached her. She stared up at him with terror on her face as she, too, stood. She was trembling.

But she didn't back away.

He took a step forward - and they were millimeters apart, his sleeve brushing her skin as he raised a hand to her face and cupped it. Against her will, she closed her eyes and leaned into it, her brow pinched, then gazed back at him once more.

All his bravado dissolved. This lead-up was pure agony; he should've just gone for the kill, like he did when they were eleven and he'd accused her of wanting him to be her boyfriend. The way she looked now - like she were about to lose everything - made him almost retract the dare and go back to being the demented, tortured souls they were.

Almost.

"Trust me," he begged, and she took a deep breath and stilled, her eyes suddenly clear.

He kissed her.

The lightest brush of his mouth on hers, as if he were tasting her - and then he pulled her lower lip between his and gently tugged to fully take her. She gasped, and the tiny noise sent his pulse roaring in his ears. He pulled her closer, burrowing both hands in her hair as he'd always longed to do, coming to rest behind her neck, touching her in ways he never knew could make him feel so alive. After a paralyzed moment, she responded, with fingers trailing distractingly over his cheeks, up to his ears and down his jaw to his shoulders, his arms. And then those fingers were in the fabric of his shirt, squeezing and twisting it against his back as she crushed herself against him, and it was his turn to groan, to slide one hand to her waist to hold her to him, even as he tilted her face with the other, and she raised her own to meet him again, and again.

Sabrina broke away first, breathing heavily, her eyes wide, stepping so far back that they were no longer touching.

Puck swallowed, not trusting himself to speak. _You had to have felt it, too. Didn't you?_

She was speechless as well, a crease between her eyes, biting the lips he'd just felt move against his own, watching him.

 _She doesn't look happy,_ he thought. _It wasn't a bad kiss! I might not have been practicing on random females, but I've lived long enough to've seen all the possible ways to do it, which is to say nothing of the movies in which I was forced to watch it play out, either. And she kissed me back! I know she did! So what's up with the stink face?_

 _Unless . . ._

"Talk to me, Grimm," he broke the tension, beginning to panic. "What?"

"You cheated," she managed to wheeze out; then her expression changed and she threw him a dirty look. "You cheated!"

"I swear! There was no potion or. . . drug, or. . ."

"No! Not that! _You_. . .!" She threw herself at him, fists out. He did a double take, just barely turning his face and hunching away before her wrath descended upon him.

"What? What did I do?" He tried to defend himself, more confused than he'd ever been. _Why_ did their kisses always end in fistfights?

She pounded her fists on his body, finally collapsing against him.

"I _hate_ you." He heard her whimper, and his heart shattered.

 _No._

He'd been so sure.

He'd trusted Fate. Fate was _never_ wrong.

But then she was pulling away, looking at him, and she wasn't angry. Not really.

And now she was coming back again, snarling, punctuating every choked syllable with a thud of her hands against his chest, knocking the wind out of him as he stumbled back. "You. Win. You. Win. I. Hate. You."

Slowly, the meaning of her words dawned on him, and cold relief washed over him like a flood. He smirked, then full-out beamed, then threw his head back in a rolling laugh that echoed against the stars.

"No, you don't." He told her when he'd finally stopped, when the mirth had bubbled over and settled quietly over the atmosphere in a cloak of contentment. His challenge carried just a trace of cockiness.

Sabrina's fists relaxed and her fingers began their unsettling, distracting glide over the fabric of his shirt, playing with the buttons, sneaking over the open collar to brush the skin at his throat, teasing him to madness. "No," she repeated, with equal parts resignation and wonder, "I don't".

He sighed, letting his arms slide around her waist, claiming her. _Finally_ \- to hold her like this . . . he had no words to describe it.

"Well, well," he said, his voice now lilting with the full thrill of victory, "third time _was_ the charm, after all. Although I could've saved you the trouble - you shoulda just believed it when you woke me up after that Poisoned Apple incident. True love's kiss doesn't lie, you know."

"I never said I loved you." She grumbled.

"Just did."

"Didn't count!"

Puck snorted, then grew silent once more, although the ghost of a smile still danced on his lips. He dipped his head. "Encore?"

Sabrina stared at him, still unsure of this New Thing they'd tumbled headlong into, accelerating full throttle, brakes off, into each other's gravity. For the moment, she needed to keep her eyes on him, as if it would concede a clue to how he'd inexplicably changed from the bane of her existence to . . . this - this beautiful creature who held her as she'd never been held, made her body yearn for his as no other boy's had. Her lips parted, trying for a comeback, trying to form words, trying to prove she still even had the capacity for speech.

"I'll take that as a yes," Puck smirked, and kissed her again.

And her mouth surrendered all its lesser endeavors to that one marvelous pursuit.

When her wits had finally returned to her, she sighed and realized that she was no longer terrified; instead, there was a fierceness of a different kind - protective and passionate - that surprised her.

"Can we . . ." she began, her ear over his heart, listening to its steady beat, remembering the times when she'd been afraid for his life, "can we go real slow? I think I might not freak out as much."

"Whatever you want. Although I _was_ planning on a big Show and Tell just to annoy your Dad."

"Puck! You can be such a child. I'm not some prize to flaunt!"

A quiet chuckle rose in his throat.

"Yes," he murmured, "you are."

* * *

They stayed on the roof till almost midnight, and then Puck flew Sabrina down to her window once more. There, he paused.

"Call me old-fashioned, but I believe the thing to do with your date is to take her to her door and kiss her goodbye. Or, in our case, the window."

He smiled at her, at the feel of her in his arms, completely familiar yet utterly new.

"Goodnight," she corrected him, "not goodbye."

He let her climb into her room and hold his face in her hands. This time, she leaned in and took his mouth with hers.

"This is so disgustingly Romeo and Juliet," she remarked as they drew apart, although her heart resounded in her ears.

"Nauseating," he agreed, rolling his eyes. "And I should know because I actually watched them do it. Oh - " he took the car keys from the pocket of his hoodie and dangled them in front of her. "Keep 'em. In case you need to get places." He winked. "I programmed Faerie into the GPS."

She reached for the keys, just as he snatched them back, throwing her a warning look. "But don't even think of making out with boys in the back seat."

She rolled her own eyes. "Er, I think that usually happens in the _guy's_ car."

He made a mental note to remember that fun fact as he dropped the keys in her hand.

"But what about you? How will you get home?" She asked him, and he fluttered his wings, his face radiant with an honest, open smile that was almost - and uncharacteristically - shy.

"Couldn't keep my feet on the ground tonight even if I tried. I'm gonna fly."

He brought her hand to his lips, then released it.

"Don't let that Registrar troll give you hell," he warned, a glint in his eye.

"I'll be sure to mention you sent your love," she replied in all seriousness.

Then he was gone, a shadow melting into the darkness with the soft brush of wings through leaves, and Sabrina exhaled, feeling lighter than she'd been in a long time.

She pulled down the window and latched it, her mind flooding with memories.

She'd led an army to war.

She'd saved her family and liberated her town.

She'd come out to her two bestest friends in the world - and they were _still_ her two bestest friends in the world.

She'd survived foster care, poisoning, possession, magical addiction, and parental abandonment.

She was about to start an illustrious career in cultural broking and law, in 50 shades of crazy.

 _And_ she'd just snagged the King of Faerie, who was - not that she'd ever admit it to him - an _exceptional_ kisser.

 _Not bad_ , she thought, smiling, _for just nineteen_.

* * *

 **A/N: Eight chapters for a kiss - I hope it was worth the wait!**

 **Thought I'd update a little earlier this week because I had some downtime now, and who knows if I might have more of the same on Thurs/Fri/Sat. Okay, review-responding-time:**

 **Guest (6/17): Thank you! But, noooooo, don't cry! It does get better for P and S!**

 **marjiee8771: Thank you! Hopefully this chapter gave them a fighting chance, no?**

 **Arabella Quinn: Yes, Sabrina is dreadfully giggly, isn't she? I remember watching my friends fall in love and they were SO OOC that I felt like barfing. So euphoric and giggly and revoltingly HAPPY. And then I fell in love. Bah. Ate my own words and then some. So yes, falling in love does horrible things to your composure. At least the initial stages do, and then it all settles down and the pinkfluffyglitter thankfully fades away and we're normal again, phew. So fear not, this gleeful Sabrina is just in-the-moment caught in an undertow of endorphins she doesn't even care to admit she feels. Silly girl.**

 **olive62: Bad news: it IS still only 9 chapters. Sorry. Good news: More stories coming up, including one that has P+S fighting monsters.**

 **Guest (6/19): Thank you! I do, too!**

 **I'll get to the rest of the reviews via PM.**

 **P.S. Of _course_ there's an epilogue. Would I ever write a story like this without? You're welcome.**


	9. Chapter Nine: Epilogue: WE, Take 2

_**Almost 4 years later**_

Graduation Day at Hywell College was like any other, with a few exceptions.

Exhibit A: the centaurs. Solemn and wise, they stood among the faculty, nodding at the students who once knew them only in their human form. When they'd morphed before their astounded sophomore class, there'd been pandemonium, and security - already stationed around the room in preparation for the hysteria - had had a field day. Quite a few transfers had been effected by the end of the week - collateral damage, the deans had called, it as they'd tallied the numbers and compared them against those of previous years.

Sabrina had been on the Assimilation Committee (she hated the name) ever since one of her professors, having been aware of her history, had convinced her to represent the faculty as an interpreter of sorts. She'd ended up representing the students as well, telling the dumbstruck professors that there surely were better paths to open-mindedness than shattering a person's reality with what amounted to a parlor trick. She'd thought of Puck as she'd said this, and of how he'd looked that night in his room with his hair swept behind his ears, as her bewildered friends had cowered before him.

The following year had gone _much_ better: not all the mortals had gone berserk and the medical center hadn't even needed a re-stock of forgetful dust. Her old guidance counselor would've been so proud.

Now, four years later, the effects of those changes were clear. Around the campus, dotted about the spring-green lawn, were groups of humans and . . . creatures - laughing, adjusting mortar boards and gowns, taking pictures, wiping tears. Sabrina watched them with a lump in her throat. They had come a long way since their first unsteady weeks of forced hellos and awkward smiles, alien cultures tottering on virgin steps toward first faith, then hope and - finally - joy.

Also, love.

She caught sight of Jason striding across the field, hand-in-hand with a girl, and remembered the night he'd come to her, reeling and stumbling into her room.

"Jason? Are you drunk?" Sabrina had had just enough time to break his fall as he'd collapsed through the door frame. Somehow, she'd got him situated on her couch, where he'd laughed bitterly.

"No," he'd lied, his eyes unfocused and bloodshot. "No. I'm losing my mind."

Sabrina had known, of course, what he'd meant; they all started that way.

When he'd finally slurred into speech again, he'd sounded on the edge of delirium. "Allie. It's Allie."

His new girlfriend. Sweetest thing you ever saw, with striking blue-green eyes and hair the color of burnished bronze, set in a hundred dreadlocks. Also the great-granddaughter of Thumbelina, and heiress of all her shrinking powers.

Sabrina had taken his hand and sat beside him. "Tell me."

He'd stared at her for an eternity before desperately gambling on the strength of their friendship, and _told_ her.

 _Allie had shrunk_. Like Alice in Wonderland after she'd eaten the magic cake. Like one moment she was smiling before him and the next, she was a living action-figure at his feet. He'd screamed, hadn't cared if it'd cast doubts upon his manhood; he'd been mortified that he was going insane.

Sabrina's heart had burst as she'd heard his utter vulnerability. It was always worst when it was someone you knew.

Or _thought_ you knew.

She'd risen, laid her hand on his shoulder and said, "I'll make coffee. We'll be here a while."

And so they were - alternating between talking and staring at nothing and, as Sabrina fed him a truth that was both poison and elixir, reality crumbled and rebuilt itself around Jason. Whatever they'd known about each other had been called into question and resoundingly answered as the night wore on, faith stretching into sight the things that were madness in his world but gospel in hers. By the the time the sun had slipped golden fingers over the horizon, he'd fallen asleep on her couch, the tears barely dried on his face, and Sabrina had felt like she'd seen him age decades in the space of those few hours. She'd sat with him, her hand absently stroking his hair, like a mother coaxing sweet dreams into a child, and called Puck on her phone.

"Hey," she'd whispered, so as not to disturb her unconscious friend, "Jason's sleeping on my couch."

"It's six freaking a.m," Puck had groused, voice thick with sleep. "A bit early in the day to try for a jealous reaction, innit?"

"He found out, Puck. He knows."

After a short silence, "Ah. Bugger."

"Wish you were here. We should hire ourselves out as a kind of Break Bad News Gently team. These people here don't do subtle real well."

"That's why you're there, isn't it? Hurry up and get it into their thick heads so you can be done and come home. I miss you."

"Same, Stinkpot. Let's have dinner with Jason and Allie when you're next here, and we can show them the right way to come out of the closet, yeah?"

"Only if we eat at that Chinese place on 3rd Ave. I gave it 5 stars. Their sesame chicken is outta this world."

"Deal."

Sabrina smiled at the memory, and at the couple now making their way toward her.

"Where's the family?" Jason called to her when they were within earshot.

"On their way," she shouted back. "Hey, Allie!"

"We made it!" Allie grinned at her. "We're graduates! And nobody died of fright!" She glanced slyly at Jason, who huffed.

"I almost did, you sadist. Next time one of you guys tries to do a show-and-tell, _please_ give us mortals fair warning. If not for Sabrina -"

A shout made them all turn, and there were Daphne and Basil, followed by their parents, and Granny, and Red, helping Tobias. Also Emily and Jen, hollering her name and explaining at the top of their voices that they'd only barely made it because their own commencement ceremonies were postponed at the last minute.

"You're coming home! You're coming home!" Daphne hugged her.

"And _you're_ heading out next year," Sabrina reminded her, laughing.

"Puck here yet?" Daphne asked.

"Nope. Haven't seen him. Wasn't even sure he'd show, given the prospect of sitting in an auditorium full of people talking about education and stuff. I told him they didn't allow HAZMAT suits."

"I'm offended," a voice said, and Puck dropped from the sky into their group. "Wouldn't miss it for anything; it's like the cinema - all those heads to throw peanuts at."

"You wouldn't dare!" Sabrina said.

"Also, I had a gift for you," he ignored her, and from his pocket drew out a small velvet box.

A collective gasp rippled through the group. Veronica slapped a hand to her mouth and Sabrina didn't have to look to know that Daphne was biting down on hers. To her left, she heard Jen emit a muffled squeak.

"Well?" Puck said cockily. "Aren't you gonna open it?"

Sabrina stood, frozen, the little box like a dead weight in her hand.

"Puck," she began, then lost her voice. Aware of everyone's eyes on her, she lifted the lid -

\- and found a key.

She lifted it out, feeling strangely let down, and heard the combined reactions of shock, exasperation and disappointment echo around her.

"What's this?" She managed to ask.

"Key to your new office in Faerie. You said you'd come work for me when you were done here, right?" Puck asked, looking plaintive. "I got everything set up for you already. Mustardseed helped. There's even a coffee-maker. Your first case is on your desk waiting for you."

Everyone stared in confusion.

"What case?" Sabrina ventured.

"Um. Well. You remember that thing I do with the trolls and the land? Uh, apparently one of the troll kids has been taking classes on the sly - some distance learning thing on the internet. Anyhow, turns out he figured out a way to get the land back for his old man, and sent me some papers with a big shot letterhead and everything. I tossed them in the fireplace, naturally. But he sent another, and another. So _we_ sent a fully-armed Fae delegation to threaten them to cease and desist, but they claimed they'll only speak to my lawyer. So . . ."

"Puck," Sabrina said slowly, "I need a license to practice."

"The trolls don't know that," he argued stubbornly.

"Doesn't matter if they don't," Sabrina clarified, "I could ruin my reputation before I've even got one."

"Well, where can you buy something like that? I'll go get you one while you're in your graduation shindig."

"You can't buy it! I need to go to law school, and take the bar. It'll be, like, another couple years."

Puck's face took on a look of panic. "But he'll take back my land! And I've already given it out to the homeless families! I won it fair and square!" Then his face hardened. "I'll go to war! I'll unleash my army on him and his stupid -"

"Calm down, Stinker. I'll figure something out and maybe, if we're lucky, we won't have to go to court . . . wherever _that_ is between fairies and trolls." She took his hand and led him away, rolling her eyes backward at her family and friends, who were shaking their heads sadly at them.

* * *

After the ceremony and the hat-tossing thing (which Sabrina still didn't get, but participated in anyway, for the sake of her friends), she returned to her room to get ready for dinner with her family. Puck came with her, and flopped onto the couch with a can of soda in his hand as he watched her pick out something to wear.

"I remember when we first got this place set up," he remarked, sounding almost sentimental. "Sandwich Boy was moping around like a kicked puppy. It was so entertaining."

"In the past!" Sabrina intoned firmly from her bedroom. "He's totally happy now. Allie's wonderful."

"When you're done," Puck called out, and she thought his voice sounded a little different, "come out here for a minute. I've got something to show you."

She emerged, and sat beside him on the couch, curious.

He produced another velvet box and held it out to her.

Sabrina narrowed her eyes at him. "What's _this_ one a key to? Janitor's closet? A new kitchen where you hope I'll cook you meals?"

"Open it," he said, sounding quite serious.

Still eyeing him in suspicion, she casually flipped the top, then glanced down.

Her eyes widened, and her hand flew to her mouth, as her mother's had earlier.

In the box sat a ring, set with a gem shaped like a crystal teardrop.

She blinked - the jewel looked familiar - and then gasped as she recognized it.

"It's that. . . that Cypress thingy -"

"Mother Cypress, yeah." Puck interrupted, not moving from where he sat. "The, uh . . . the star I followed to Ferryport Landing. To you." He shuddered. "Man, it sounded a whole lot less cheesy when I first thought of it. Very avant garde, actually. Had to convince Mother to break tradition and all. Apparently, the Queens of Faerie always wear stars on their rings, but never the Cypress. Told her there was always a first for everything."

" _Queens of Faerie?_ " Sabrina heard her own voice whisper weakly. "Puck, what is this? And I need you to be absolutely clear because, as you very well know, you can sometimes be incredibly annoying and vague and stupid."

He sighed. " _This_ , Grimm, is an engagement ring. I would've thought that even _you_ would know that. I, Puck, King of Faerie, am showing you an engagement ring, because I want you to marry me at some point in our lives."

She sucked in a breath, and wanted to scoot away, but made herself sit still and hear him out.

"But not now," Puck continued, his voice deathly slow and deliberate, as if speaking to a person of much lower intelligence. "Long ago, you told me you didn't care for Fate picking whom you'd be with for the rest of your life. So you fought Fate, and - ding! - Round One went to Fate. Duh. But you also said that if you couldn't pick whom to be with, you at least wanted to pick _when_. So . . ." he plucked the box from her fingers and put it back in his pocket, "this is me letting you pick when."

Sabrina's mind was a complete blank. Then, unnaturally calm, she chewed on her thumbnail, letting her brain slowly catch up.

"So . . . you want me to propose to you after you've _already_ proposed to me?"

"Something like that."

"That sounds. . . dubious."

Puck crossed his arms. "Don't look at me - _you're_ the one making everything complicated. Any other girl would've screamed OMG Yes and tweeted the entire internet. Or completely passed out from the sheer honor and wonder of it all. You, on the other hand . . ." He shook his head. "You're probably gonna make me wait a couple centuries. Just to spite Fate."

 _Fate again._ The scourge of her existence, that threw out tantalizing offerings of freedom on tethers so long she couldn't see their ends shackled to eternity's endgame. She sat, staring into the distance, remembering the conversations she'd had with Puck about this, about doors closing and divergent paths and looking back after millennia at some shining walk down the aisle in destiny's cheesy chapel of love. It was all existential mumbo-jumbo, so hopelessly circuitous that it still made her head hurt to imagine it. What kind of twisted stunt was Fate up to this time?

And - more importantly - how could she beat it at its own game?

" _I_ get to pick when." Sabrina wasn't even looking at him as she slowly enunciated each word, a smile incrementally igniting her features as the truth sank in.

"Always a little slow on the uptake," Puck muttered.

Then, without warning, she flung herself at him and bowled him over with an _oof_ , into the cushions of the couch, landing with her knees on either side of his body.

"I. Get. To. Pick. When." She sounded almost threatening as she sat on him, hands on his chest. Pinned beneath her, he gulped; he'd forgotten how scary she could be when she did her gloaty victory thing. Scary, and - with her hair wild around her face, eyes blazing, lips slightly pursed in a triumphant smirk - unspeakably _beautiful_.

"Um, yeah. . ." He attempted to get up, but Sabrina pushed him back down.

"And Fate can't do a darned thing about _when_ , even if I wait till we're like nine thousand, nine hundred and ninety-nine and can't walk and don't even have teeth left?"

Puck deflated substantially. "Well, I _was_ hoping it'd be a bit sooner, like maybe before dementia set in. I mean, better late than never, I suppose, but it won't be nearly as much fun if we can't even -"

"Before dementia! Ha!" She punched her fist in the air, narrowly missing his ear and stunning him into silence. "This is me saying 'In your face, Fate!' "

She returned her eyes to his at last, and his heart beat a frenzied rhythm as, with agonizing slowness, she lowered herself onto her elbows over him, her breath warm against his lips.

"And _this_ ," she murmured, as his eyes widened and his pulse skyrocketed, "is me screaming OMG Yes."

He'd barely registered her meaning as he met her mouth with his, and she put everything she felt for him into that kiss, while he returned it with at least as much fervor, wrapping his arms around her and closing the remaining distance between them.

For a long time, they did not waste moments speaking, basking in the moment that was theirs - chosen; _won_.

And Fate, the watcher of worlds, orchestrator of fortunes and feather-light infiltrator of time and happenstance, looked down on them - and smiled.

~ Fin~

* * *

 **A/N: Hahaha! You wouldn't believe how many different endings I wrote - and tossed out - for this epilogue. What a fun ride. And here we must bid adieu, but only momentarily - believe it or not, I'm partway through _two_ new stories. One of them has a dragon in it! A _dragon_! Well, it also has Sabrina and Puck, of course, but who cares about them when there's a _dragon?_! **

**Okay, I'll stop foaming at the mouth now and just go.**

 **And finish my story.**

 **(The one with the, you know, DRAGON.)**

 **~QaS**

 **P.S. Review-responses -**

 **Arabella Quinn: Thanks for waiting patiently - here is the final installment!**

 **Caroline2002: Yes, wasn't it awful how the books ended with nary an embrace, let alone a kiss? Not acceptable. Not. At. All. Thank you for reviewing!**


	10. Annexe: Tips

Hello!

This chapter was originally at the beginning of Nineteen and, as promised, I've moved it to the end so people can just dive right into the story from Chapter One. I've been responding to reviews and PMs about my stories, in particular, my dialogue, and thought I'd share some of my replies here, so everyone can read. I feel like dialogue is a lot easier for me than, say, poignant prose, which can so easily drag (and which, I'm sad to admit about mine, often does, but I'm working on it!). I've wondered if it's perhaps because dialogue is the outpouring of what goes on inside a character, and I enjoy that introspection - and deconstruction - which, in turn, shows up in the dialogue.

Long sentence, that.

So . . . how to write dialogue?

I don't usually think about how I do it, but because I've been asked for tips, I looked at my most recent story and tried to analyze my methods. Here's what I came up with:

First, I try to write **realistic** dialogue. In other words, I try to write the way the characters might speak in real life - the operative word here being "might". I most enjoy writing fics in which our favorite characters are older than in the books, possibly because there is a lot more freedom to develop them along paths not already laid out. This could be dangerous, of course, because readers have certain ways in which they imagine these characters to act or speak when they're, say, twenty-five, and anything to the contrary feels (to them, at any rate - and validly so) out-of-character. Cue hate mail.

Next, I try to also write **meaningful** dialogue. By that, I don't mean the characters spout existential platitudes. Ugh. I do mean that their words say something other than just information: they tell a story, reveal a character's mood, or hint at a context hitherto un-broached. Or something to that effect.

Finally, I try to write dialogue that's **distinct** to each character. I've heard that this is called their "voice". So, for instance, Sabrina's voice is very different than Puck's - and not just in pitch or timbre or whatever - even though they're both engaged in the same witty banter and insults. It has to do with what's going on inside them, what they mean to each other (or to other characters e.g. Sabrina x Daphne), and _how_ they say certain things, among other factors.

Because generalizing can be vague and unhelpful, here follow some concrete examples.

1 CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT

To write Brink, my first fanfic, I let the characters live in my head for a couple of years, in various scenarios that never made it to paper (or computer screen), until I felt I could tease their voices apart. Even when I write them now, I try to keep their personalities always before me, asking myself, for instance, "Can I tell the difference between Sabrina's and Puck's words, if I don't _actually_ say who's speaking which?"

Here's a quick illustration - interpretation mine:

Sabrina is sarcastic - she speaks from a lot of unresolved anger at her parents, foster care, the stress of being strong for Daphne, the constant vigilance of watching out for both of them against threats. Someone once said that sarcasm is anger trying to be smart, and the more I hear it used, the more I see the truth in that. Under all that anger, Sabrina is insecure - having to grow up suddenly without help and act older and more capable than she really was takes a toll on a person. She has a strong sense of right and wrong, but her devotion to, and dependence on, her family sometimes drives her to make poor decisions. So she doesn't get it right all the time and she knows it - it's a scary and frustrating place to be. Sarcasm is her shield.

Puck, by contrast, is not sarcastic. He can say sarcastic things, and he has been angry in situations (e.g. Oberon, the prospect of growing older, etc.) but he is not an angry person, not really. He's sassy and snarky and arrogant (Sabrina is not). He feels entitled and looks down on people in general (Sabrina tends to prefer looking down on people she doesn't trust), because that's how he was brought up; he's used to people adoring him. He's incredibly witty in ways Sabrina is not, and he's funny while Sabrina more often than not is merely reactive to his funniness. And, under all his immaturity, he's actually very observant and aware of people and the world and relationships, if nothing else, because he's lived so long. However, he dislikes being seen as anything but a tough guy hotshot so _his_ shield is snark and cockiness.

So I write Puck and Sabrina with those differences in mind. It helps me write them as older Puck and Sabrina - 16, 29, etc. even though Buckley never writes them at that age. To me, they're still sarcastic and snarky, respectively, but their childishness has gone, and they're now mellower, have a greater capacity for intimacy (in all its dimensions) as well as hurt, and different things are important to them than when they were pre-teens.

2 IN BETWEEN THE WORDS

This is hard to explain, but let me try anyway. Sometimes, a block of dialogue seems very choppy and stiff, even if it is realistic. It could be that we don't put enough things in between the dialogue to give it context.

I like to do a few things with my dialogue (and I must disclaim that these terms are my own rubbish - I made up the titles just to define them):

(i) Vary the speaking verbs.

So instead of saying:

 **"Hey, Stinky!" Puck said.**  
 **"Shut your face!" Sabrina replied.**

I might say:

 **"Hey, Stinky!" Puck taunted.**  
 **"Shut your face!" Sabrina shook her fist at him.**

There are times when I might not even use an actual speaking verb, like in that last quotation.

(ii) Pacing.

So instead of saying:

 **"Hey, Stinky!" Puck said.**  
 **"Shut your face!" Sabrina replied.**

I might say:

 **"Hey, Stinky!" Puck flapped around her and thumbed his nose in defiance, watching her face turn redder and redder as she glared at him.**

 **Sabrina suddenly turned her back on him, but not before he thought he saw tears in her eyes.**

 **"Shut your face!" She replied, but it was half-hearted, and her voice cracked.**

Same two spoken lines, but with description separating them. It feels (to me, anyway) that time has slowed a bit, and there is now meaning in the exchange of insults that make it weighty, layered, less frivolous. Hopefully, it makes the reader, just reading those two phrases from Puck and Sabrina, now want to _know_ what had happened before to bring about this conversation, and what would happen next.

(iii) Chunking the dialogue.  
Suppose I wanted Puck and Sabrina to have one of those quick-fire exchanges that we love so much, viz:

 _Puck descended onto the grass and looked around at the massacre. The cows in Granny's pasture were all lying on their sides, with their heads burnt to a crisp._

 _"What in the world happened here?" He asked Sabrina._

 _Sabrina shrugged helplessly. "Your mother turned into a dragon and burnt them all. She was mad that you didn't come home when you promised you would. Next time, you should call her. Parents like kids to keep their word."_

 _Puck frowned - he didn't know his mother had been there. He looked Sabrina up and down._

 _"Did you get hurt?" He asked, worriedly._

 _Sabrina took a step back. "No. But since when did you care?" She tried to fight down a spark of hope._

 _"I've always cared. I thought you knew."_

 _Sabrina blushed._

###

 _That sounds normal, if a bit gag-fluffy, but let's see what happens if we put all the context at the beginning and at the end, and chunked all the pure dialogue together in the middle, so:_

 **Puck descended beside Sabrina and blinked.**

 **"What in the world happened here?"**

 **"Oh, I don't know - your mother decided it was a good idea to turn into a dragon and take the heads off the cows in the field."**

 **"My _mother_? She's _here_?"**

 **"It seems _someone_ forgot to call her to say he wasn't coming home for dinner. You've gotta keep your word with parents, Puck. They don't like being messed with."**

 **"I'm sure the cows didn't care for being messed with, either! And you - are you hurt?"**

 **An indignant snort - "No!" Then, "but since when did you care?"**

 **"I've always cared." An eye roll. "Thought you knew."**

 **Sabrina blushed. No, she didn't know. But she'd always hoped.**

###

Still cheesy, but I thought it made for a more interesting read - Sabrina's sarcasm is in full force, and Puck's reaction to his mother's presence and its effect on the cows gives a teeny bit of insight into his relationship with her, without actually spelling it out.

Okay, I'm done. I hope this has been helpful! I don't mean to sound cleverer-than-thou, and if this writing-tip-sharing is way weird and out of line, I'll just delete the whole thing. So let me know, because I really do want to help, and this seemed as good a way as any. I

~QaS


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